The 12 Saves of ChristmasDeansBabyBird & Janger
by DeansBabyBird
Summary: Come and see how your best loved Christmas icons save our boys from Yuletide disaster. The first save will post on Christmas day and there’ll be one each day thereafter for the 12 Days of the holiday season. Thank you Mr Kripke for the best present ever,
1. Chapter 1

**The 12 Saves Of Christmas**

Prologue

December 22nd 11am

"So, we can go see this big, freaky-ass star thing. You'll like it Sam, it's a local landmark. People come for miles just to see it. See the blue and white signs?"

Dean gestured out the window to the highway markers flashing past the windows. Sam craned his neck and peered in the indicated direction, reading the quickly passing sign with difficulty in the low, winter light.

'Follow... the Star... to ...Bethlehem!'

He murmured disinterestedly, and Dean frowned at his lack of enthusiasm. Sammy was really not getting his head into this whole winter adventure deal and Dean had put lots of energy into making this a real special Christmas.

Not that Sammy knew that, of course. That was the whole point. It was gonna be a terrific surprise. That was if it all went to plan, but then what was there to go wrong? Dean had it planned down to the last detail.

Well, almost the last detail. They still needed to hit a K-Mart and stock up on essentials but they'd do that once they got checked in at their surprise destination.

This was gonna be a great Christmas.

The elder Winchester pressed on, determined to innervate his sulking sibling.

"So we go see the Star, salt and burn this ghostly Christmas Hiker of theirs, and while we're here, we just maybe catch a glimpse of 'the' Jonathan Frakes! How cool would that be, Sam? Commander Riker from Star Trek: The Next Generation. He was born right here in Bethlehem. So was Jimmy DeGrasso and 'The Rock'. They sure have more than their fair share of celebrities, huh?"

Dean smiled happily over at Sam where he slumped dejectedly against the door of the Impala, as they barrelled through the increasingly snowy weather towards Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.

Sam was struggling to see why Dean was so excited about a very routine salt and burn in a declining, backwater steel town but he recognised that Dean's eyes were alight with the fervour of the hunt, and the possibility of a Star Trek/Megadeth/WWF celebrity sighting, and he knew nothing was going to distract his brother from his objective. He was resigned to going along with the stupid road trip, but he just couldn't get buzzed about it. Not even to please his over excited, suddenly Christmas-loving brother.

All Sam could think of was that they could have been settling into the relative comfort of Christmas at Bobby Singer's right now. Okay, the salvage yard wasn't exactly the lap of luxury, but it beat Christmas in some crappy motel again. Sam would have done his famous or was that infamous? egg-nog and Bobby would have grumbled his way good naturedly through incinerating a turkey for them. That was as good as it ever got for him now, since losing Jess. He sighed, knowing he wasn't even gonna have that now because Dean had a bee in his Yuletide Santa hat over some half-assed Hiker ghost.

Happy freaking Winchester Christmas!

Sam wasn't even convinced that this was really their type of job. Okay, this guy, he opened the tattered buff file again, James Tannenbaum - Jeeze, what a name! - had disappeared without a trace on a simple hike with his two business partners and his wife had sworn blind there was something sinister about his disappearance.

However, all the so-called Ghost of the 'Christmas Hiker' had ever done was chase the odd South Mountain Hiker. He'd never hurt anyone and the only reason to assume it was the spirit of Tannenbaum was that the ghost had only begun to appear the year after his disappearance, on the anniversary of that fateful hike in the spruce forest with his partners.

Sam picked out one of the print outs Dean had packed into the file and almost smiled, just catching himself before Dean could see it. Dean had really worked the research for this one.

It was a grainy shot of three smiling, middle-aged men standing shoulder to shoulder outside the steel works. The plant that loomed behind them was large and Sam confirmed in the accompanying text that it was the major employer in the Lehigh Valley region of Pennsylvania.

James Tannenbaum and the Harvey brothers were the founding partners of the firm and had taken 10 years to build it to the thriving enterprise it was at the time of the freak disappearance. The Harveys had fared little better than their ex-partner, the plant foundering just months after the incident, amidst rumours of financial wrongdoings.

Nothing was ever proven but the brothers blamed the crash of the company on their lost partner and left the area themselves shortly afterwards. That was 1995 and the prosperity of the town had gone downhill with the decline of its major employer and the name of Tannenbaum had become anathema in Bethlehem.

Sam pulled another photocopied page from the file and began to read about 'The Star of Bethlehem'. Yup, for some reason, Dean had been very thorough in his research and Sam found himself warming slightly to the job despite himself.

The Star was situated on top of South Mountain, the same mountain where Tannenbaum had taken that fateful hike, and was the crowning glory for 'Christmas City, USA'. The original star had been a wooden one erected by the grateful people of the town to commemorate their founding father, Count Zinzendorf's, naming their town Bethlehem on Christmas Eve 1741. That had been replaced later by a steel construction and later again, in 1967, by the current Plexiglas star. It was a pretty looking thing, even in the tiny, newsprint picture on the photocopy, and Sam read that it was visible from miles away.

Sam looked up from the papers.

"Where are we now, Dean?"

Dean swivelled his head on stiff shoulders and glanced over at Sam before looking back to the snowy road.

"Umm, we passed a town a couple of miles back...think it was called Wind Rush or something?"

"Wind Gap?"

Sam questioned, unable to keep a slight touch of excitement from his voice.

"Yeah, that was it I think, Wind Gap. Knew it was Wind something. Why, Sam?"

Sam sat forward on the bench seat, wiping at the slightly fogged up windshield, but the condensation and the snowflakes gathering on the outside restricted his view.

"Stop the car a minute, Dean."

Dean raised his eyebrows but Sam's face was earnest and he cruised the Impala into the kerb.

"What's up?"

Sam was popping the door as he replied.

"Wanna see if it's true..."

Snowflakes blew into the car and Dean yelled

"Sam! Shut the damn door."

His plea fell on deaf ears and Dean growled as he followed his brother into the persistent storm. It was cold as he made his way around the Impala and he slammed the passenger door shut before joining Sam where he stood on the road, in front of the car. Sam was holding both hands up to his forehead to keep the fat, white flakes from his eyes as he squinted into the low, winter sunlight.

Dean stood by his side and adopted the same posture.

"Wow!"

Both brothers exclaimed in unison as the twinkling Star of Bethlehem cut through the buffeting storm before them.

"You really can see it from 20 miles away..."

Sam's voice held a slight note of childlike wonder.

"Crap, that sucker must be freaking huge!"

Dean's voice was equally as wondrous in its own way.

wWw

The rest of the journey to Bethlehem was uneventful; lit as it was by the guiding beam of the Star, and just short of an hour later saw the Winchesters pulling into the parking lot of the swanky Holy Night Inn.

Well more correctly the once swanky Holy Night Inn. Since the closure of the steel mill the hotel had fared no better than the rest of the businesses in town, but that said it was still clearly way better than the standard accommodation the brothers were used to.

Sam peered through the small, clear section of windshield before him and turned to the older man, perplexed.

"Dean. Have you lost your mind? This isn't our sorta place. Rooms must be at least $89 a night. We can't afford this."

"Sammy...Sammy..."

Dean placed his hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed affectionately.

"It's Christmas, bro. It's all arranged. I booked it on line weeks ago. All we need to do is go check in. I thought we'd finish off the spirit real quick and then we can have a few nights relaxing in splendour. And where better to do it than Holy Night Inn? I thought it might make up for some of our more spectacularly crappy 'Christmas pasts'!"

"So this is what all the manic research and secrecy has been about?"

Dean's huge grin was as infectious as always and Sam found his face cracking into a smile.

"We deserve a bit of R&R, Sammy... and they have pay per view and a Jacuzzi."

Sam laughed out loud, realising how low his brother's expectations were.

"Thanks, Dean, this is real nice..."

"Don't get all chick-flick on me, Sam."

Dean smiled as he stepped from the car closely followed by his now excited sibling.

"Leave the bags; we'll have a bus-boy come get them!"

"You really think that's wise, Dean? Considering the lethal arsenal you've got stashed away in there?"

Dean inclined his head, nodding sagely.

"I guess you've got a good point there, Sammy. Let's get checked in, I'll come get 'em once we're settled."

Dean stretched up and threw his arm around his giant baby brother's shoulders and the Winchester brothers headed for their much anticipated and well-deserved luxury.

wWw

"And I was supposed to know you have to confirm freaking on line bookings, how?"

Dean's blood pressure was at maximum mercury levels and he was about to lose what little cool he had left. The best laid plans he had worked so hard at were melting like snowflakes in Hades before his stunned emerald eyes, but he had no intention of going down without a fight.

The desk clerk, however, was a thirty year leisure industry veteran and it was gonna take more than an irate, if particularly handsome customer, to faze him.

"If Sir would just let me explain."

He spoke with exaggerated patience that had Sam biting his lip to keep from laughing. Somehow he had known, looking at the Holy Night Inn, that it was not destined to be their resting place.

"It does say quite clearly on the on line booking form that at peak times we require a confirmation e-mail within a week of the booking. And Christmas is one of our busiest times, Sir. The Star and all, you know."

The clerk tapped unthreateningly, but irritatingly, with his pen on the screen that he had turned so Dean could see. Sensing impending disaster, Dean took a deep breath and turned up the charm to full power.

"Charles..."

He schmoozed, clocking the clerks name badge.

"So,okay, we can't have the premiere suite with the Jacuzzi..."

Charles shook his head with sympathetic sincerity.

"So what can you offer us?"

Sam watched Charles' eyebrows rise suggestively and the slight blush creep to Dean's cheek and he bit his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.

"By way of rooms, I mean. For me and my brother, that is!"

Dean quickly added in his deepest voice and Charles pretended to hide his disappointment.

"I'm really sorry, Mr Cringle, but the hotel is absolutely full. There's not a single room to be had in the whole Inn. I'm afraid at this time there's nothing I can do to service your needs."

Sam's laughter burst forth at that point, seeing his brother's frank blush at the clerk's amused suggestiveness. He gently pushed his open mouthed sibling out of Charles immediate eye-line, mouthing 'Mr Cringle' incredulously. Dean shrugged defiantly.

"So, Charles. Can you advise of where in town we might find a room for the next couple of nights?"

Sam smiled his best 'innocent abroad' smile and Charles returned it sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Bethlehem is totally full. I know because we have an on line booking tracker which shows us the other hotels of repute in the area so we can help guests to somewhere else when we are full. As I said, though, this is our peak time and everywhere is totally max'd out. I'm very sorry."

The smiling clerk ran his eye appreciatively over the younger Winchester.

"If it was up to me, I'd certainly make room for the pair of you. Indeed it would be my great pleasure to have you both in the hotel."

Sam blushed, ignored Dean's snort of irritation and smiled warmly at the, some might say, over-friendly clerk.

"Are all the hotels on your system, Charles?"

The clerk nodded sadly.

"Yes, Sir, they are.

"Motels?"

Sam enquired hopefully.

"Well, there's only the one out by the paddocks at the edge of town, The Bethlehem Stables."

Charles was unaware but his nostril had flared in slight distaste at the thought of the infamously sub standard institute.

"The Bethlehem Stables..? You're kidding me, Charles, right?"

Sam smiled in astonished delight.

"You're really telling me that there's no room at the inn for two weary travellers, and the only possible option could be a stable in Bethlehem?"

Charles lifted a delicate hand to hide his inappropriate grin.

"I'm afraid I am, Sir."

Sam nodded slowly, taking in the incredulous impossibility of the situation. He nodded his thanks to Charles and forcefully took his brother's arm by the wrist.

"Come on, Dean."

He pulled the reluctant hunter toward the door.

"Let's blow this joint before the Three Wise Men and an interfering Angel of the Lord appear!"

Dean laughed out loud.

"Angel of the Lord? Now Sammy, that's just too fantastical for words!"

Ends


	2. Chapter 2 Decking Dean with Boughs of H

**The 12 'Saves' of Christmas**

Save Number one – Decking Dean with Boughs of Holly

December 22nd 4.30pm

The forest was Christmas card perfect. Evergreen trees stretched frost covered fingers towards a midnight blue sky. The stars chased ancient gods and mythical beings through winter white puffs of cloud and the rising moon cast its silvery beams onto the crisp banks of pure, unsullied snow.

There was that soft silence that the frigid carpet of pure white bestows to the world. As the beasts of the forest cuddled up in their hidey holes, munching on a prudently stored acorn or some other unfortunate, smaller beast as they saw fit.

All was peace and icy perfection.

Apart, that was, from the steady moaning emanating from the patch of holly bushes at the foot of the cliff and which flared from time to time into brief bouts of heartfelt cussing.

"Freakin' Holly! I hadda fall into the scratchiest, sonofabitching bush known to man. I couldn't have landed in some sweet smelling, soft leaved, springy-boughed, cotton-wool covered trampoline bush?"

Dean grumbled as he stared with unfocussed eyes up towards Sammy, who was looming even more than usual, perched as he was on the top of the cliff his older sibling had so recently, and spectacularly, vacated.

"Consider yourself lucky, Dean."

Sam hollered, a wry smile of relief playing at the corner of his mouth as he looked down onto his brother's clearly somewhat still intact form.

"Lucky? Oh, yeah, that's my freakin' middle name, Sam! Just another shining example of Dean 'Lucky' Winchester and his amazing Yuletide Good Fortune!"

"At least the holly broke your fall which is pretty amazing when you think how hard the ghost threw you. I thought you'd have broken every bone in your body when you flew over the edge of the butte like that."

Dean grudgingly acknowledged Sam's point, though Sam was perched too far above his uncomfortable resting place to see his brother's reluctant nod, and the world spun more than a little as Dean craned his neck to look up into the night sky, in Sam's general direction.

"I think the Spirit of Christmas must be looking out for you."

Sam's voice echoed distantly in the frosty air as he carefully began the descent to his brother's aid.

"Sure... sure, Sammy. It's a different kinda Christmas _Spirit_ that I could do with right now though."

Dean mumbled back peevishly, his eyebrows raised in an ironic curve, though his eyes were blinking slowly, closing in fatigue.

"Something spirit based that'd warm my sorry ass...now that'd be lucky."

_How could Sam call this lucky?_ Dean was freezing his ass off. His teeth literally chattering in his head as he tried- again- to pry his trapped leg from beneath the fallen bough that held him pinned so securely to the floor.

He had lost his jacket, well maybe _lost _wasn't quite the right word, cause he could still see it lodged, fluttering in the steady breeze about eight feet above his head. Flapping away like some giant bird or a weird ass flag, staking his claim to the cliff face. Maybe the Sasquatch could reach it down for him.

The heavy tree limb that he was now so intimately intertwined with had been brought down in his spectacular fall from the cliff high above, and he was in no mood to humour Sam with his festive 'joy to the world' platitudes.

"Freaking Spirit of Christmas..."

Dean muttered under his breath as he thrashed about, inadvertently becoming further entangled in the prickly holly branches that had saved him from certain death. But still he could find no reason to rejoice in his unanticipated seasonal 'save'.

The absence of the warm, weathered leather was telling on his shivering form and the holly had exacted its price for his survival. As he had plummeted, the spiky yuletide vegetation had scratched and torn a myriad of softly stinging presents into his delicate hide and he was losing blood and precious heat as quickly as his patience.

"Stay put, bro, I'm on my way down."

Sam's forced cheeriness penetrated the increasingly fuzzy layers that were clouding Dean's awareness as he lay, helplessly succumbing to the hypothermic arms of long forgotten dreams and memories, utterly ungrateful for the miracle of the first 'save' of Christmas.

'_Stay put, bro? Yeah, like I got a lot of damned choice in the matter? Don't worry, Sam, I'm not headed anywhere, anytime soon…'_

"Be careful, Sammy. Watch yourself on those rocks; it's icy as hell up there. I got enough problems without Gigantor flying through the air and landing on top of me." Dean's words tailed off as his eyelids fluttered, lost their battle with gravity and slid gently closed, shielding his glazed and glassy eyes within the first layers of unconsciousness.

The unnatural quiet was broken only by the faint creaking of branches and the gentle patter of clumps of snow as they fell, dislodged from the recently disturbed boughs above. The occasional grunts and groans of pain had subsided into a softly, rasping snore. In the distance muffled crashes, the snapping of twigs, bursts of non-festive cursing and the tramp of fast approaching footsteps could be heard.

"Dean? Dean, where are you? Ouch! Sonofabitch!"

A particularly loud thud was followed by a string of expletives and a rustling of undergrowth before a heavily jacketed arm forced its way through the low lying branches making way for a sweating, dishevelled head of hair.

"Aah, come on, you gotta be freakin' kidding me here. How many goddamn holly trees can there be? Dammit, Dean, answer me. I know you're round here somewhere."

Sam paused again, trying to get his bearings now he had reached the base of the cliff and flicking his long, snow damp bangs back from his forehead. Hot breath puffed from his partially open lips in quickly dissipating clouds as he peered frantically through the heavily mottled gloom of the sub canopy area.

Glancing upwards, his attention was caught by a large flapping object to his right, squinting into the wavering light his expression changed to one of concern as he recognised his brother's leather coat suspended high above him.

"Why the hell did you take your jacket off, Dean?"

Sam wondered out loud as he pushed a little further into the deep, prickly undergrowth, only to jump as freezing cold fingers took a firm hold of his ankle.

"I didn't take it off..."

Dean's look of disgust purveyed his sentiment of 'what a dumb-ass comment' far better than actual words did and Sam felt a slow blush flood his cold, pale cheeks.

"It was torn from my superbly toned and much sought after body by Mother Nature, Sammy."

The explanation was chattered out through lips blued with the cold as Sam carefully detached the worst of the prickly debris from his shivering brother's torn skin.

"See, it happens to me all the time..."

Sam looked into Dean's slightly unfocussed gaze and raised his eyebrows in question as he checked him over, cataloguing his injuries.

"What happens all the time, Dean?"

Dean huffed the air from his lungs out in disgust at his baby brother's lack of understanding of a simple, but irrefutable truth.

"Women, Sammy..."

Dean accepted Sam's arm, finally free enough of the tangling holly to be able to at least sit up. He groaned as he slowly rose, the cold air stinging his lacerated back.

"What about women?"

Sam mumbled as he assessed the damage to Dean's back, his brother having effectively been lying on a bed of thorns. On the snow beneath, the ruby red 'shadow' of the hunter tattooed the virginal white.

"Sammy! Have you forgotten that talk we had about women?"

Dean's finest shit-eater grin warmed his pale face, and the younger Winchester rolled his eyes but held his tongue.

"What, in particular, about women?"

Sam clarified in his clearest 'I'm talking to a moron' voice.

"Women..."

Dean replied wincing softly as Sam pulled up his crimson frosted T-shirt to reveal his torn back.

"Women always want to remove my clothes, Sammy."

It was Sam's turn to huff in amusement.

"Oh, you can laugh..."

Dean retorted.

"But it's just a simple matter of fact, bro. They find me hard to resist and Mother Nature..."

Dean inclined his head, and blinked in a quod erat demonstrandum gesture.

"Well, she's a woman too, so naturally she'd want a piece of this fine ass too.

Sam nodded distractedly as he surveyed the worst of the tears in his brother's hide.

"You're back's all torn up, Dean..."

"Yup. They do that, too."

Dean interrupted and, seeing lack of understanding in Sam's hazel eyes, he clarified.

"Women, Sam. Tear your back up when they're..."

"Enough, Dean!"

Sam shouted abruptly, jolting Dean from his random, fuzzy lecture. The sudden movement tore at the wounds, some of which were reasonably deep, and fresh rivulets of blood dripped to birth new crimson blooms in the brittle snow.

"Ouch!"

Dean muttered softly.

"I'm sorry."

Sam moved round on his knees.

"Let's get you out of here, Dean."

He made to rise, reaching out to take hold of Dean's arm and help him up.

"Can't... Stuck!"

Dean's words were a little slurry and Sam looked worriedly into green eyes that were gently succumbing to shock and the cold.

"Stay with me here, Dean."

Sam shook his brother's shoulder and the vibration from the movement called down, from the over-hanging trees, a further drifting of snow upon the yuletide hunters.

"That's what I'm trying to tell ya...I ain't going nowhere."

The sudden sprinkle of cold and wet upon Dean revived him a little and he growled.

"Can't just 'get me out', ya festive fool. I'm stuck, really stuck!"

He gestured angrily at his trapped leg and Sam peered through the gloom to focus on his brother's bough ensnared limb. Recognition and realisation flooded Sam's face as his huge hands made contact with the fallen branch.

"You're stuck!"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock!"

Sam ignored the sarcastic remark and rose slowly to his feet; straddling his brother's recumbent form and planting his huge boots in the deep snow as he strained to lift the large wooden barrier.

"Try... and pull...your leg free."

Sam gasped with the effort and Dean with the discomfort of the manoeuvre, but slowly Sam raised the heavy bough enough for Dean to wriggle and tug his nerve-dead leg from its entrapment.

"Clear, Sam!"

Dean called triumphantly as he rolled away from the fallen bough, allowing Sam the relief of letting it crash back to the floor. Flurries of snow blizzarded around the brothers as Sam reached towards Dean's newly released leg. His jeans were stained with lichen from the tree and frozen to his limb and Dean winced as Sam's firm fingers probed the cramped muscles and bruised flesh.

"Can you feel anything?"

Sam asked and was rewarded with a glower as Dean knocked his searching hand away.

"Yeah, your great mitts all over me! Mind the merchandise, dude."

Sam smiled carefully, so as not to incur further wrath, and leaned in to help Dean rise from his frosty resting place. Frozen blood made icy, cherry-red popsicles of his jeans as he rose; and Sam could feel wholesale tremors of both cold and discomfort as he held Dean steady whilst he found his footing, testing the leg gingerly to see if it would support his weight.

"S'okay, Sammy..."

Dean pushed him gently away and swayed carefully in the softly drifting snow.

"I don't think it's busted."

He took a faltering step and a groan emanated from his bluish lips as his bodyweight made the re-awakening limb buzz with pins and needles.

"Well, good..."

Sam smiled.

"'Cause I don't wanna have to carry your heavy old ass outta here!"

Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked up into his brother grinning face.

"A little less of the heavy and the old, if it's all the same to you. Anyway Sasquatch, I doubt you'll have to."

He stuttered.

"'Cause I think I'll d...d...die of hypothermia long before we g...get back to the car."

Sam's face changed instantly; humour being replaced by concern as he noticed Dean violently shaking.

"One minute, Dean."

He was moving as he spoke, his long legs giving him good purchase on the tree as he climbed towards the leather 'big-bird' caught in the branches.

"Thought you'd never take the hint there, bro."

Dean smiled up as he watched his baby brother scale the sturdy limbs, sending tiny avalanches cascading down with his every movement.

"Catch!"

The heavy jacket flapped with poor aerodynamic grace to the ground; landing unceremoniously on Dean's head, the weight of the descending garment knocking him back on his ass in the snow.

Sam scrambled from the tree and helped Dean to his unstable feet for the second time in 60 seconds, brushing the snow from his grumbling brother as he helped him don the slightly damp coat. Wet as it was it felt good as Dean shrugged the familiar leather around his frozen body and he smiled despite his aches and pains.

"So..."

Sam craned his long neck to regard the top of the butte.

"You ready for a climb? The Impala's somewhere up there, along with one rather pissed off ghost."

Dean tipped his head back to follow Sam's line of sight, swaying precariously as he did.

"Did you find my shotgun up there? I musta dropped it when that crazy mother gotta hold of me."

Sam gestured towards his backpack "Don't worry. I got it right here. Getting a little sloppy there, bro!" He teased gently.

"Ah, bite me! You know, it's strange it didn't follow us, Sam?"

Dean continued distractedly as they looked up into the clear, star filled sky. Sam unobtrusively took his brother's elbow to steady him as he answered.

"Don't think it can, Dean. Seems locked into the patch of land at the cliff top for some reason."

"Ummm..."

Dean nodded in acceptance.

"Well, better get going if we're gonna stand any chance of finding the body so we can salt and burn that sucker. It sure as hell wasn't anywhere we looked yet."

Sam nodded in agreement as they slowly started back. They clambered through the cluttered undergrowth for a while, the only sounds their footsteps in the crisp, crunching snow, the snapping of twigs and the odd muttered curse, then suddenly Dean's curious voice cut through the winter silence.

"Sam?"

"Uh huh?"

Sam looked back worriedly at his brother as he replied.

"You okay, Dean? Leg hurting?"

Dean shook his head. The lie springing readily to his lips

"Nah, s'okay."

Sam let go the breath he had been holding in.

"What's up then?"

"It's just that, I was thinking...it was sorta 'lucky' that I hit the holly. It prickled like a sonofabitch but it slowed me right down as I fell, I guess it did save me."

Sam nodded at his brother's thoughtful contemplations.

"As I said, you were lucky, dude. Very lucky."

wWw

High on the butte the wind howled around the spirit of the Christmas Hiker as he stared down on the rescue scene below him with eerily opaque eyes.

His anger roiled within him but he had no capacity to escape the confines of his cliff-top prison and the seemingly endless frustration tore from him, his shrieks of torment joining the song of the gale.

He would bide his time.

They would come back; they had to come back to his hill-top domain as the only way back to their car was the path he guarded, and he would be waiting for them.

Ends.


	3. Chapter 3 The Holly and The Poison Ivy

Save 2 - 12 Saves of Christmas

The Holly and the Ivy

December 22nd - 6.15pm

"As I said, you were lucky, dude. Very lucky." Sam drawled quietly.

"It got me thinking, you know, it's not the first time you or dad have gone on about 'Mother Nature' or your Christmas Spirit having a hand in saving one of us."

He flicked his eyes up to an increasingly incredulous looking Sam.

"I just wish if something was gonna get involved in giving us a hand, that it'd do it without us getting half killed beforehand."

Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow, halting his progress to look back over a snow-spattered shoulder as his brother limped painfully towards him.

"Dean? Did you hit your head and not mention it to me? Cause you're kinda startin' to ramble here."

"Dude, if I mentioned every place I hit on the way down, we'd still be sitting in that damned bush! No, I mean it, Sam. Don't you remember that "camping" weekend dad took us on? Damn, when was it? Lemme think for a minute."

Dean chewed absentmindedly at his bruised lower lip as he struggled to remember the details. Wanting, _needing_, something to take his mind off the dull, throbbing ache that was beginning to nag remorselessly at his left knee, shooting pains streaking down his shin with rhythmic discomfort.

Sam waited patiently whilst his brother caught up, he knew without it being voiced that Dean was in far more pain than he was letting on, also knew that the more fuss he made the longer the resistance to his help would continue. So he hung back, silently observing the approaching figure for injuries he might have missed, highlighted as they both were by the distant moon against the cold gleam of the snow.

Dean looked up as he drew near; his breath coming in short measured puffs, a light sheen of sweat on his high cheekbones reflecting the moonlight, casting the rest of his face into deep shadows. He smiled, tiredly.

"Okay, so it's coming back to me now. It was over in Rocky Gap State Park, up in the Central Appalachians." He nodded for Sam to continue walking, shaking off his proffered hand. "Dad'd hired a cabin for a couple of months over the winter, he'd just cleared out a shapeshifter from along one of the lakes and it had gone pretty quiet up there. So he decided the best way for the Winchester's to spend the run-up to Christmas was out on a training exercise."

"It was just before my nineteenth birthday so you'da been about fourteen." He glanced up at Sam's unresponsive face. "Oh, come on, Sam. Tell me you remember!"

Sam's noncommittal shrug of the shoulders spurred Dean to continue, trying to enthuse Sam with his reminiscences.

"So, we left our warm, safe, comfortable cabin, full of provisions for Christmas and headed out into the hills for a five day hike with minimal survival provisions." He chuckled softly, "I remember now, Dad was totally pissed off with the pair of us. I was mad that he'd left me back at the cabin baby-sitting your sorry-ass whilst he'd gone hunting; so, before he came back, we took the car into town and went to the movies. We went to see, what was it? S_cream 2._" He shook his head, laughing.

"You gotta remember it, Sammy! You wanted to go see _Titanic_, but I got the tickets and made you go see _Scream 2. _Dude, that was one hot film, I loved that Buffy chick_, _even if she didn't know jackshit about hunting - man I could'a taught her a thing or two. You remember, I bought one of those masks at the end and wound you up the whole way back to the hut!"

Sam rolled his hazel eyes, grinning widely, Dean's easy memories driving away some of his worries. He glanced back and was heartened to see that Dean was managing to match his pace.

"Yeah, it's all coming back to me now! You were such a dick, trying to drive with that mask on… That's why you skidded the car in the snow and ended up creasing it up against a tree!" His eyes widened as the memories returned.

"Dude, there was black ice, it wasn't my fault!" Dean denied hotly.

Sam hid his smile behind his shaggy hair, relieved that his brother was picking up the pace a little.

"Anyway, Dean, I still don't get how Mother Nature saved us then. If I recall correctly, Dad'd gotten home early and was waiting there at the cabin when we got back. He was madder'n hell, that we'd gone into town and then when he found out about the car, he went ballistic, man!"

"Well if you'd shut up and let me finish."

Dean's lips pouted in annoyance at Sam's interruptions.

"That was why he took us out 'training' four days before Christmas, he was so mad he said the only way we'd get a Christmas that year was if we hauled our worthless hides back there ourselves. He drove us out about 40 miles into the mountains, gave us a six hour head start and then we were supposed to practise Escape and Evasion techniques, so he didn't catch up to us."

Recovering his good humour, he gently punched Sam on the arm.

"You moaned from the time we got in the car, to the time we eventually got back to that damned cabin. I'm surprised I didn't tie you to a damned tree and leave you out there!"

"Well, it was you that crashed the car, not me!" Sam returned, voice rising in frustration.

"Oh, quit your bitchin', Sammy. There's no need to go into one of your hissy fits, Princess, it was a long time ago!"

Sam's mumbled curses brought a grin to Dean's pale, scratched-up face as they reached the shallow, slow-moving stream at the base of the cliff.

Sam searched along the gentle banks for his crossing point, easily locating the footstep disturbed snow casting harsh shadows against the moonlit white carpet.

"Oh, man, tell me I don't gotta get any wetter'n I already am?"

"Well, unless you can fly your 'worthless hide' back up there with the aid of your dancing partner, this time you gotta try slightly more conventional means!"

Sam's browed furrowed in concentration.

"Hey, you know, that could be why it didn't follow us down, there's a lot of lore about it, and certain types of spirits can't cross open water."

"Way to go, Einstein. Mind you, the way I feel, I almost wish the freaky sonofabitch would get down here and haul my priceless tail back up there. Come on; let's get this over with. Get your boots and socks off, Sammy. You don't wanna be walking with wet feet in this snow."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dean. Remember who just saved who from that bush, for God's sake! Come on, there's some rocks over there, I used them on the way over as stepping-stones, you can keep your boots on."

Sam lead the way to where the moss-slippery rocks stuck out of the frigid water. He turned in time to catch Dean's dubious glare.

"You gonna be okay on these, dude? Wait, I'll take my boots off and give you a hand."

"Like hell you will, Sam. Quit fussin' over me. I'm fine!"

Gritting his teeth and scowling in concentration, Dean edged out gingerly onto the first of the slippery rocks. Arms spread out loosely to the sides like a practised tightrope walker; he balanced his way towards the now seemingly distant shore, steadfastly ignoring the shards of pain that rocketed through him every time he placed his full weight upon his damaged left leg.

By the time he reached the last stone, sweat had beaded upon his upper lip and his breath hitched as he sought to control trembling muscles and the black spots dancing before his eyes.

Sam followed one step behind, glancing up just in time to see his brother sway dangerously over to the side. He leapt across to steady him as he stumbled from the rock, knee buckling beneath him as it twisted on the uneven footing.

"Aaarrgghh! Dammit!" He yelped, as Sam's strong arm caught him around his waist. Clutching tightly to Sam's shoulder they struggled the last few steps to shore. Curses filled the frosty air as the shingle shifted below his sturdy boots, twisting his already abused patella.

"Motherfu…" Dean gasped, eyes clenched tightly shut as Sam lowered him carefully on to the snow-topped trunk of a fallen tree. Leaning forwards, both hands clasped around his failing knee, he rocked silently against the pain.

"Okay, Dean. Little something you're not telling me here? Come on, lemme take a look." Sam knelt before his grimacing brother, torch in hand, carefully avoiding the dark slush at the rivers edge. He reached for the ice cold, wet denim covering his brothers left leg and carefully raised it above the knee, swatting at Dean's clutching hands as he did so.

Dean leant back, growling softly as Sam's long fingers probed his wounded knee, poking gently at the lividly bruised and swollen flesh. Huffing in pain as Sam lifted his ankle and gradually straightened the limb.

"Leave it, Sam. 'M fine. Just get me on my feet and let's get up this damned hill!"

"Don't think so, Dean. Here, sit still. I got some bandages in my backpack, I'm gonna strap it up tight and get you a stick to lean on. Nothin's broken, I think it's just badly bruised and maybe twisted a little."

Sam swung the daypack from his broad back and rummaged inside for the first aid kit. "Here, swallow a couple of these. They'll help." He thrust the Ibuprofen bottle towards his shivering, pale-faced sibling.

"Sammy, please? Quit fussing and let's get a move on. I'm starting to freeze my ass off here." Dean complained, but swallowed the proffered tablets as Sam began to wind the elasticated bandage securely round his knee.

"Anyway, Dean. You were telling me about this survival trip with dad." Sam prompted, attempting to turn Dean's thoughts away from their present predicament.

Dean shook his head, as if coming out of a daze.

"Right, yeah, where was I? Okay, so dad had dumped us in the middle of nowhere. It was snowing; damn it was cold up there. We set off at a real good pace; we knew if we made good time we could still get back to the cabin in time for some sorta Christmas. Should'a known things weren't gonna go according to plan."

His brow furrowed as he watched his baby brother finish off the bandaging and stand, towering above him.

"Stay here. I'll be right back." Sam disappeared into the heavily wooded tree line, returning several minutes later with a selection of sturdy sticks. "Well, there's plenty to choose from, dude! Take your pick."

He helped Dean to rise unsteadily to his feet, gingerly testing his weight on the strapped joint.

"Dammit!" He hissed, "Okay, pass me one of those damned things. Come on, let's get outta here."

Together, they began the long and arduous trek up the steep, slippery track leading to the cliff top.

"So, we'd only been out for a couple of hours, trying to make for lower ground so we could cover our tracks, when you slipped and got your foot stuck down a rabbit hole. Man, you were so damn clumsy at that age, Sammy. You'd fall over everything, even stuff that wasn't there!" Dean chuckled softly at the memory.

Sam huffed a denial, making Dean laugh even harder.

"Seriously, dude. That was the year you grew about a foot in three weeks and your head hadn't caught up with the rest of you and thought you could still fit through gaps you could fit through before. You used to hit your head on everything, trip over nothing, and bump into things in a different room. You were like a one man destruction unit."

Sam scowled through his frosting breath. "How times change, huh? Cause it was me pulling your raggedy-ass out from under that bush just now."

"That was so not the same thing, Sam."

Dean raised a dismissive eyebrow in Sam's general direction before continuing.

"Anyhow, I slid on down next to you, to try and pull you out. Ended up digging you out with my bare hands and got covered in poison ivy in the process. Course, we didn't know it then cause all the leaves were dead, but I got it all over my hands, arms and neck where I was digging around in the snow. We got you out, eventually, and didn't think anymore of it. You were still bitchin' cause it was cold, wet and getting dark and you couldn't watch your 90210 or Melrose or whatever it was you were missing."

"Dude, I never watched any of that!" Sam denied hotly.

"Yeah, whatever you say, dude."

Dean stumbled, jarring his leg on the slippery slope, "Ah, Jeez!" He panted breathlessly, sinking awkwardly to the ground, half lying on his side, clutching at his throbbing knee, face screwed up in pain.

Sam was instantly at his side, "Hey, easy there, Dean, you okay?"

"Awesome, just awesome." Dean managed to grit through the pain.

"Well, it's about time we stopped for a rest anyway. You wanna rest here for a while?"

Dean shook his head, ripples of pain ghosting across his wan features, "No."

_Damn, not good. One word answers from Dean, always a bad sign._ Sam hovered, knowing his brother needed time to compose himself.

"Hey, come on, there's no rush, we got all night. Take your time, bro'."

"Just give me a minute, Sam. Just need to catch my breath."

Dean looked up, disorientated, at the dark silhouette of his younger brother that refused to stop swaying against the moonlit sky. Blinking to clear his swimming vision, he held his hand out.

"Hey, Sammy, any chance of a hand up here?"

Sam squatted in front of the recumbent form and reached out with his own chilled hand to tilt Dean's chin up towards the moonlight. Fully expecting, and ready to counter, Dean's stubborn resistance, he again pulled the slim Maglite torch from his inner pocket.

"Dean, look at me. Just sit tight for a while and let me look at your eyes." He shone the bright beam into his brother's rolling eyes.

"Dammit, Sammy! There goes my friggin' night vision. What the hell's the matter with you?" Dean flinched back from the fierce beam.

"Hey! Just calm down there, Captain Concussion! Okay, Dean, so I think maybe we need to have a five-minute sit down. I don't know about you but I really could do with a break." Sam used the one argument he knew Dean would succumb to.

"It's alright for you; you're not sitting down here in this friggin' cold snow, freezing your tushe off." Dean complained as he gratefully leant back trying to haul himself into a more comfortable position. "But, whatever. If your pansy-assed, college-boy legs need a break, Samantha, then don't let me be the one to stop you."

Dean leant forwards, clutching his pounding head in his hands, gently massaging the temples

"Anyway," Sam sat himself stiffly down next to the quietly suffering form of his big brother, folding his coltishly long legs before him. "Maybe, you can get to finish this damned story, if we sit still for a little while!"

"Yeah, I guess… Where the hell was I?"

"Well, according to you, you'd just dug me out of a rabbit hole and got covered in poison ivy. So far, I'm not seeing much seasonal saving goin' on, Dean."

"Right, we'd got down from the mountainside and it was maybe the second or third night out, we were making really good time and dad was nowhere in sight. God, it was so cold up there, why do I seem to have spent so much time freezin' my bits off, Sam?"

Dean glanced groggily at the huge form beside him.

"Dean, the story?" Sam prompted.

"Sorry. So, yeah. You were still bitchin'!"

Dean's face took on a far-away expression…

"_Dean, dad's just a total jerk, what's the matter with the man? Most families are at home hanging up stockings and eating candy now. We get a raging psychopath for a father who thinks it's his duty to prepare us for…for god knows what!_

"_Sam, please? Give it a rest. Look we're out here now, there's no point moaning like a little girl. Let's just get going and see if we can't get back in time to do a little candy-cane action of our own?" Dean scratched absently at the side of his neck._

"_Let's find somewhere to hole up for a couple of hours, you'll feel better after some sleep. There's loads of empty holiday cabins up here this time of year, we can bust into one and sleep someplace warm for a change. We carry on at this pace and we'll be back in plenty of time for Christmas Dinner!" He encouraged, pausing to scratch at the exposed skin of his hands and lower arms. _

"_Come on, Sammy. Dammit, I think I've been bitten, or something, I'm startin' to itch all over."_

"_Don't call me Sammy, it's Sam! Come on then, quit itching, you'll only make it worse."_

_Together they headed off towards the distant ridgeline, keeping to the shadowed tree lined roadside._

_wWw_

"_Hey, Dean." Sam whispered. "I've had a look round the back and there's definitely no-one around, no car tracks, nothing! Stop scratching, Dean, what's the matter with you?"_

"_Sshhh! Come on. Let's just get inside outta this cold. You got your lock-pick, Sammy? Time to put all that training to good use!"_

_Sam stealthily approached the cabin door, stepping carefully along the boarded veranda, and then knelt briefly by the lock. His brother followed at a distance, keeping a wary eye on the surroundings, listening for any threats._

"_And we're in!" Sam exclaimed gleefully after several minutes._

_Dean flashed a tired grin at the kneeling figure, "Well done, Kiddo. That's the product of a misspent youth! Come on, let's get inside."_

_Warily they entered the silent building, swiftly checking all three rooms before closing the main door and heading for the kitchen. _

"_Sam, make sure all the curtains and blinds are shut before you put on any lights." Dean instructed, remembering the basic rules of breaking and entering he'd learnt so many years before. "Then get that stove on and see if we can warm this place up a little."_

"_What's up with you doing something?" Sam questioned._

"_Nothing… Just let me wash my face and hands first. They're killing me, I musta' got stung or bitten or something out there." Dean paused scrubbing his hands on the rough fabric of his jeans._

_Sam turned from checking the last window and reached for a switch. _

"_Here, let me take a look at them in the light." _

_Sam struggled to hide his gasp as harsh light flooded the small kitchen area. "Damn, Dean. Why didn't you say something earlier?"_

_Dean stood swaying as he stared mutely at the raw and weeping blister covered mess at the end of his arms. "Didn't know it was this bad, Sam. They were so damned cold, all I could feel was the itching." Grimacing he reached up to scratch savagely at the side of his neck._

"_Hell, Dean. Stop it! Oh god, it's all over your neck too. Dude, it's disgusting, you've turned into some freakin' leper." Sam exclaimed, his face showing clearly the horror he felt at the sight._

_Dean gingerly pulled up his sleeves and turned his hands over inspecting them more closely. "Crap! I've had something like this before. Not as bad as this. Last time I crawled through a patch of poison ivy, but its winter, I thought you had to touch the leaves or something. Man this is killing me." Again he raked his nails over his inflamed skin._

"Hell, Dean. I remember it all now. Man you looked like an extra from the _Thriller_ video. You were a total mess. I cleaned you up as best I could and made a huge pot of some sorta stew."

"Yeah, which I couldn't eat cause when my hands warmed up they were so bad I couldn't hold a spoon. I tell you, Sammy, I've been shot, stabbed, burnt and beaten but nothing was so damned irritating as that freakin' poison ivy. If I never touch that stuff again it'll be too soon."

"So, I still don't' get how poison ivy 'saved' you out there." Sam mused quietly.

"Well, as usual you gotta allow for just a little bit more of the Winchester Yuletide Luck coming into play!" Dean shivered, pulling further into his jacket.

"We eventually got outta the cabin, cause there was no sign of dad. I was pretty groggy by then, we'd found a load of painkillers and some other stuff, so I was fairly out of it. We forgot the Escape & Evasion tactics, in fact we were hoping dad'd come and find us by then."

"That man's got a lot to answer for." Sam grumbled under his breath.

Dean shook his head, "Leave it, Sam. Anyway, we decided to take a short cut through the lower slopes and somehow wandered into a hunting range where they were holding a Christmas Eve Venison drive. It was dusk and we crossed into the line of sight of some crazy-assed hunter who mistook me for a deer. He was very apologetic later and said he'd just fired when he'd seen a movement. Made me feel just so much better!"

Sam's face paled visibly even in the moonlight. "Oh, god! He shot you, I remember. You were lagging behind, I turned to wait and you just keeled over, I heard the shot and thought you were dead. How could I forget that, Dean?"

"It was a long time ago, Sammy. We've had so many crappy close calls; I guess the near misses get lost along the way. I was happily mooching along, so high on whatever painkillers I'd mixed with the half bottle of whisky I'd drunk – for medicinal purposes only, you understand – I just kinda blacked out as I walked along. I suppose the cold didn't help either. I collapsed at the same time he fired that shot, the bullet grazed me just along the hairline."

He reached up, tentatively rubbing cold fingers along the old scar.

"Knocked me for six, but if I hadn't gone down first it would have killed me for sure, straight through the heart they reckoned. At least we got a lift home out of it. Dad hit the roof when he came home and found us both there, I was laid up for about a week and a half with concussion, fever and the damned poison ivy."

"Yet another in a long line of Winchester Super Christmases. You wonder why it's not a time of year I relish, Dean!"

"Ah, come on, Sam. Don't go all Ebenezer on me, dude! We had some good ones, too. Anyway, it was dad, after he'd had a bottle of whiskey and got kinda maudlin', who pointed out that if it wasn't for the poison ivy, I wouldn't have still been there. I remember thinking at the time, if it wasn't for the poison ivy I probably wouldn't have got shot at all, but who knows, Sammy? Maybe there is some horribly warped Spirit of Christmas who wants to keep our asses in the game!"

"Well, Dean, that's the holly and the ivy. What's next the mistletoe? I think we should just avoid any more tacky representations of Christmas and just get back up to the top of the hill, smoke that crazy mother and get outta here."

"I'm with you there, bro! Let's get back to the motel, I'll make eggnog, we can watch a few re-runs on TV and open the spectacular present that I've got waiting for you back in the car!"

"Come on then, time to haul ass. Let's go reacquaint ourselves with the 'flying nun' up there."

Leaning heavily on the mould speckled stick, Dean pushed himself upright, concentrating on his breathing, bringing the pain back under control.

'Okay, I'm good. Let's just keep goin' to the top. If I stop I might never start again and I really don't wanna' spend another night out in the freakin' woods. It's just too damn cold!"

Wearily, he peered up into the deeply shadowed path ahead, sighing deeply. '_Dammit, why isn't anything ever simple? How much more of this goddamned hill can there be?'_

"Sam, how much further is it? You need to get your shotgun out in case that sonofabitch is up there waiting for us. I am so not keen to fly over that ledge again, dude."

Ends


	4. Chapter 4 Rocking Robin!

**The 12 saves of Christmas **

Save Three – Rocking Robin!

December 22nd 8.15pm

"OKay, so that was way more activity than I needed at this point in time!"

Dean's words emanated from somewhere beneath Sam where he lay, his brother's gigantic form trapping him into making an impromptu 'snow-angel' in the softly drifting snow. He pushed against Sam's backpack where it, and the lumpy contents, pressed into his chest.

"Lemme up, Sammy."

His muffled voice grumbled into his brother's back.

"Sorry, Dean."

Sam's voice was full of apologies as he rolled gently off of his brother, coming to his knees in the banked whiteness and leaning over to help pull Dean into a sitting position. Their eventual cresting of the hill and subsequent onward journey seemed to be continuing in its own brand of freaky festive frivolity.

"Oooofff."

Dean huffed as he rose, knowing his abused body had notched up a few more peacock hued bruises from the encounter.

"Are ya OK?"

Sam was checking Dean out as he allowed him a moment to get his breath back.

"Yeah, I'm peachy, Sam, but hey that little sucker made a real mess of your forehead."

Dean raised his hands and grabbed Sam's chin, tilting his brother's head forward so he could check out the little beak marks mottling the skin of his forehead.

"Owwh, you got some serious peck-age going on here, bro."

Dean giggled a little as he spoke; swaying slightly where he sat on his cold, wet ass in the snow, and Sam was unsure whether the light-headedness his voice betrayed was due to his developing concussion, or the silliness of the situation.

"Yeah, tell me about it!"

Sam parted his slightly too-long brown bangs and touched the multiple tiny wounds on his forehead, wincing at the specks of blood from the peck marks of the Erithacus rubecula.

"What the hell do you suppose possessed a Robin Red Breast to fly at me like that?"

Sam was genuinely bemused and, if he was honest, a little put out that an icon of Christmas peace like the Robin would, for no apparent reason, turn all 'Jason Voorhees' on him and attack without warning. They had been scouting the area at the head of the cliff, looking for Dean's backpack where he had abandoned it after pulling out his shotgun whilst hunting the ghost, and contemplating the now seemingly long walk back to the Impala. Their pace slow as, even with his newly acquired crutch for support, Dean's leg was still giving him more pain than he would ever admit, when suddenly the demented little birdie had launched its kamikaze assault from a nearby pine tree.

Sam had been in the lead and had absorbed the brunt of the attack, batting at their 'not much bigger than a hummingbird' attacker with his gigantic hands. The Robin, however, was doggedly intent on its mission, whatever that was, and had pecked repeatedly at Sam's forehead.

The bizarre attack had been enough to have Sam stumble backwards and straight into an already wobbly Dean. Amidst calls of 'Watch out!' and 'What the hell, Sammy?' both brothers had ended up prone in the snow once more and the little bird had flown away, singing its feathered head off.

"They are notoriously territorial you know, Sammy."

Dean was staring a little distractedly in the direction the tiny, Yuletide visitor from Europe had taken, as he pulled in irritation at the cold denim wrapping his legs.

"How could you possibly know that, Dean?"

Sam shook his head in disbelief, causing the tiny rivulets of blood from the bird induced punctures to run together and make crimson snowflake patterns on his bronzed skin. He reached forward as he spoke and pulled Dean slowly to his feet, settling him on his unsteady legs with his makeshift walking aid.

Dean poked a finger into Sam's chest.

"Hey, college boy, I know stuff too. For example, Erithacus rubecula is ferociously defensive of its territory."

Sam stood slightly open mouthed before spitting out.

"I had no idea you were into ornithology."

Dean sniggered.

"Well, it was on the Nature channel. Freaking motel was so off the beaten track it didn't have pay per view so it was that or a re-run of The Bold and The Beautiful.

"Ah!"

Sam smiled.

"So you weren't really broadening your mind, it was just that you couldn't get porn?"

Dean nodded, hopping a little on his bad knee as he shuffled his stick to get a firmer footing in the slippery snow.

"Figures. So, shall we get moving before the ghost returns?"

Dean glanced around them, his eyes searching.

"What ya looking for?"

Sam touched his arm.

"Did you find my backpack? I must have thrown it down somewhere near here when the Happy Christmas Hiker jumped us."

Sam scanned about and turned to step forward, intent on the search, only to have Dean grab his arm and pull him abruptly to a halt.

"Whoa, Sammy! Look."

Dean was gesturing with his crutch to a partially hidden object on the path directly ahead of them. The grim, rusted metal contraption was peeking from beneath the drifting snow and was directly on the path they had been following. Had they taken one further step Sam, who was leading, would have trodden squarely on the cold metal of the bear trap.

"Well I'll be! I hadn't even seen it. I would'ha been ankle deep in those jaws if the damn bird hadn't flown at us."

Dean inched forward favouring his unhurt leg and stared at the grim, brutal teeth of the steel trap as it peeped from its covering of snow.

"You're right, Sammy. If you dickie-bird friend hadn't pecked you into submission I would have been wrestling one severely mangled foot from that sonofabitch trap."

He leaned forward and picked up a short but sturdy branch for the snow and handed it to Sam.

"Spring it. I hate to think of some animal getting caught in it."

Sam nodded and slammed the wood into the jaws. The trap clanged shut, splintering the log like it was made of brittle candy and showering the white snow with fragments of pine.

"Hey, Sam?"

The younger Winchester dragged his eyes back to his older sibling's quizzical gaze.

"Yeah?"

"I may be getting a bit ridiculous here but this is kinda the third 'Christmas save', isn't it?"

Sam raised a curious eyebrow and Dean smiled as he gestured to the now harmless bear trap.

"Well, if the Robin hadn't have attacked ya, you would have carried straight on and stepped on the trap and..."

"Yeah! Enough Dean, I get it."

Sam felt increasingly queasy at the thought that he might have been seeing splinters of Winchester leg bone where he currently saw toothpicks of pine!

"Wow. Weird or what?"

Dean smiled in his best and most engaging 'how cool is that?' manner and Sam couldn't help but return the grin.

"OK, so let's find your back pack and get outta here. You right this is getting too weird for words. Let's blow this joint before Santa comes along and offers us a lift on his sleigh!"

From its cover in the evergreen foliage the ghost's cadaverous face morphed slowly into a grin. The startled bird had done the job he intended, shaping the path of his victims to his will. All was well; he would have his way with these unfortunate travellers before the night was over. His eerie laughter echoed into the snowy night.

Ends


	5. Chapter 5 Save Four The Yule Log Inci

**The Twelve Saves of Christmas** Save Four The Yule Log Incident

December 22nd 9.15pm

Dean stood shivering, starkly pale in the harsh light of the moon, hunched over with his sawn-off shotgun tucked under his left arm and blowing vigorously onto his hands, trying vainly to bring some warmth back to them. Deep shadows danced eerily around the edges of the clearing and wildly dancing snowflakes whirled in silent unison, keeping time with the fitful gusting of the wind as it began to pick up speed.

"Well, that's just peachy, Sam. As if it's not cold enough already, looks like another snowstorm's on its way."

He peered into the gloom at the tree line, searching for a sight of his brother, waiting for a reply. With head cocked to one side he listened to the muffled crunch of heavy footsteps working their way through the densely packed fir trees.

"Sam? Listen man, the rucksack can't be that far into the trees, I swear I left it on the ground somewhere over here by a tree. I said _by_ a tree, not buried deep under a tree within the most remote part of the damned wood." His eyebrows rose in unison as understanding suddenly dawned upon him.

"Sam?" He yelled. "Sam. You're not looking for my rucksack, are you! You're trying to find that sonofabitch's grave. Get back out here, Sammy. I don't want you on your own in there with that spooky-assed hiker patrolling the neighbourhood!"

Hefting his shotgun and adjusting his recently acquired, makeshift crutch, Dean pulled up his collar and, leaning heavily on the stout stick, tested the weight on his knee. Grimacing, he turned towards the rustling noises coming from within the trees and then slowly hobbled towards them.

"I'm coming in, Bro. Don't shoot me!"

"Don't worry, Dean. I'm on my way out. There's no sign of your rucksack in there." Sam's disembodied voice floated out from between the gently creaking branches.

"Well, that would be because I didn't drop it in there. I told you, I left it under a tree somewhere over here." He gestured towards the bushes and trees to his left. "So, unless that damned ghost picked it up and took it for a ride, it's still gonna be over by that patch of brambles."

Pausing, his keen eyes picked out the slight indentations of their previous footprints, now almost concealed by the freshly fallen snow. Peering into the darkening shadows, he struggled to retrace his earlier path, eyes swiftly coming to rest on an oval shaped mound, half hidden by the low lying branches of a massive pine.

Behind him the foliage swayed, parting to admit a tousle-haired Sam crashing back into the snow swirled clearing.

"Well, Pocahontas, you find anything in there?" Dean drawled over his shoulder.

"Nothing we're looking for."

Sam replied with forced pleasantness.

"It's a helluva lot warmer in there out of the wind though. Maybe we should just head on back to the car, get you fixed up and come back when we've had more time to find out what the hell happened up here. Nothing's adding up, at the moment it's like we're looking for a needle in a snow-covered haystack."

Dean nodded wearily, "I guess…well, at least I found my backpack." He jutted his chin in the direction of the snow-covered lump. "Come on, let's make a move. If we're quick we could get back before this snow gets much worse. Keep an eye open for that freaky mother on the way back though, it's still lurking out here somewhere."

Sam quickly crossed the clearing and retrieved the bag, shaking it to remove the thick coating of snow. Casually he slung it over his shoulder.

"Hey, Dean, you got any food in here? I'm starving."

"You're always starving, Bigfoot. There's plenty of food in there, along with some salt and kerosene. None of your rabbit food though." Dean's face suddenly clouded over, "Hell, I wish I'd put a flask in, I could kill for a coffee."

"Yeah, I'm with you there, bro. Let's get out of this wind first, though." Sam held his hand out for the shotgun. "Come on, the path's over here, we'll find somewhere sheltered, then sit and grab something to eat. Don't trip over that trap, dude, and watch out for that crazy robin."

"S'okay, Sam, you sprung the trap, remember? And I don't think the robin'll be back." Dean muttered under his breath, teeth starting to chatter as the arctic wind found its way in through the front of his jacket. "Let's get going, m'getting cold just standing here."

Sam went to take a hold of his brother's arm. "You gonna be okay in this snow?"

Dean waved away the offer of assistance.

"Well, as of this minute I'm not seeing any other options here, Sam. Not unless Saint Nick really is gonna come along in his sleigh looking for hitchhikers."

He looked incredulously at the looming form beside him. Seeing the brief look of hurt that flickered across Sam's features he softened his tone, adding.

"I'll be fine once we get going, Sam. My knee's just stiffened up while I've been standing around waiting for you to get your bird-pecked head in gear!"

Together, they headed slowly out from the snow covered clearing towards the slippery path on the other side that would eventually lead them back down the eight or so miles, to the safety of the waiting Impala.

Sam kept a wary eye out for both the violent spirit that had earlier attacked his brother, and for any incoming robins showing signs of extreme aggression. Dean, on the other hand, concentrated on simply placing one foot in front of the other and remaining upright.

Overhead, the stark, bright light reflecting from the moon was left behind as they exited the clearing and began their steep descent. Ancient pines lined the path on both sides and the increasing roar of the wind was muted as they were enfolded between the grasping, feathered boughs. The deep, velvety blackness of silent shadows surrounded them as they negotiated the perilous pathway.

wWw

The ghost of the Christmas Hiker silently watched the brothers' slow progression from the shade of the evergreen boughs, as his tiny, red-breasted familiar looked on with its beady, black eyes. Something akin to contentment etched his drawn skin with pallid shadows and the dense foliage absorbed his soft sigh of contentment. They would soon be his.

wWw

"Damn, but it's good to be outta that wind. " Dean rasped, steadfastly ignoring the varied selection of festive aches and pains that assailed him. "Now all I need is for my ass to thaw out and the world will be a much happier place.

"How's your knee, Dean? You wanna have a rest, find someplace to sit down, have something to eat?" Sam ventured, peering into the gloom ahead, his head cocked to one side, listening.

"Not here. Let's get down off this path first." Dean panted, glancing behind at his brother. "My knee's kinda numb now; if I stop, I'm not sure it'll be keen to get goin' again."

"Okay, just let me know if you need to stop, though. Look, let me get up there in front of you, just in case."

"Dude! Will you just stop with the fussin'. 'M'fine."

Dean continued his slow progress down the treacherous slope, leaning heavily on the stout stick, testing the ground before committing his weight. Sweating with the effort, he struggled to bite back the gasps of pain. Underfoot, the newly fallen snow concealed the uneven footing and jutting stones.

"Hey, Dean. I think it's just round the next bend that the path runs right alongside that waterfall. Listen. Can you hear it?"

Dean dutifully turned to listen. "Wonderful! I was just starting to warm up, too. Mind you, at least that means we're nearly halfway down." He added almost cheerfully.

"Just be careful along there, dude, cause it was really slippery on the way up here. There's a sheer drop of about 30ft, and no holly trees to save you if you go over again."

"'Kay, Sammy." Dean nodded affably. "I'll be careful and watch my step."

"Dean? Dean, wait. You okay?" Sam called, alarmed by the sudden, easygoing acceptance of his normally petulant sibling.

"'m fine, Sammy. Just a little cold 'n' tired. Ma knee hurts, head hurts too. Did I say I'm tired? Getting real sleepy." He mumbled into the wind, yawning widely, shaking his head to clear the black spots that had taken to dancing before his eyes.

Sam watched the darker outline of his brother wavering increasingly slowly in and out of the deep shadows, and lines of worry marred his face. He knew from his brother's uncharacteristic gait, that regardless of Dean's assertions that he was fine, they would have to stop and give his knee a rest if they were going to get back to the safety of the Impala, in one piece.

'_Well, if I have to tell him that I can't make it any further to make him stop, then that's what I'll have to do.'_

Ahead and to the left of the path the tree line thinned, allowing moonlit shafts to pierce through the wavering branches, spotlighting the gossamer fall of snow that continued to drift between the overhanging boughs. Cold, blue light illuminated the billowing clouds of foam spray emanating from the churning waters. The rush of wind beyond the shelter of the trees whipped the fine spray away to join in icy union with the thickly falling snow.

The path edge tapered away to a narrow strip of ice slick rock and ragged scrub that barely managed to cling to the poorer soil of the exposed pathway, running above the steeply sided walls of the waterfall.

Dean paused in his quiet rendition of Aerosmith's _Walk This Way_, peering through bleary eyes as his labouring breath clouded around the snowflakes crowning his head. Lines of pain creased the pale forehead as fiery tendrils radiated from his swollen knee, the continued pressure of the hike down the uneven path aggravating the already tender joint. His head pulsed in time with the beating of his heart and the rough bark of the stick rubbed blisters into the raw flesh of his hand.

"Sam?" He called back breathlessly over his shoulder. "Next time I suggest we go hunting in the woods… any woods… anytime… ever… Just shoot me, okay?"

Sam's quiet chuckle was stolen away by the approaching roar of the waterfall.

"Yeah okay, Dean. Just make sure you remind me. You know, all it'll take is the scent of some hairy-assed werewolf and you'll be off like a shot."

"Exactly my point, Sam. Just shoot me before we go, and it'll save a lot of suffering in the long run!"

"Come on, let me help you down this next bit. It's gonna be freezing along there and slippery as hell. Then we'll stop and see just what dietary wonders you have stashed in your backpack once we get back into the trees."

Sam picked up his pace, moving as swiftly as the frozen ground would allow.

Dean stood with eyes closed, chewing at his lower lip, calling upon hidden reserves of strength to simply remain on his feet. Sam brushed past, taking point; he placed an encouraging hand briefly upon his weary brother's arm. Dean raised his eyes and gave a tired smirk, indicating his readiness to continue.

'_Dammit, how in Hell's name did this happen? We should'a been celebratin' Christmas, warm and safe in the best friggin' room in the best friggin' hotel this town's got to offer.'_

Dean dropped his eyes ground ward, knowing his defences were temporarily lowered and desperate not to let Sam see the hurt in his glazed, green eyes.

' _But no! Seems I can't even complete a simple sonofabitchin' on-line booking form right. So, yet again, Sam gets the Christmas from Hell, it's no wonder he's the 'Boy who hates Christmas'. Just once, it'd be nice to get a break._'

With a heavy sigh, Dean adjusted the walking stick, making sure he had a firm grip and wincing as it contacted the open blisters on his palm.

'_Oh god, Sammy. I gotta stop soon, please let us stop soon._'

"You ready, Dean?"

Sam's voice came from up close, where he stood with arm outstretched, in position to help his brother down the potentially lethal, ice encrusted slope.

"Born ready, Sammy."

Dean flashed his trademark grin, teeth shimmering in the flickering moonlight. Shame was, standing so close, Sam could see that it never reached the older man's dark-rimmed eyes.

Sam took a hold of Dean's left elbow, steadying him as he shifted his weight forwards, supporting him as the gasp of pain hissed through his parted lips. He dug in the deep tread of his sturdy walking boots, determined to maintain a good grip as he felt Dean's weight lean heavily into him.

"Come on, Dean. This is the worst bit, get this over with and it'll be plain sailing all the way down. Come on, I gotcha."

Sam encouraged, as he felt Dean's hand digging hard into the muscles of his forearm beneath his jacket. He heard the stifled groan that escaped him, as once again he brought his protesting left leg back into motion.

"Ah, Jeez…"

Dean bit back any further comment as he lurched unsteadily down the steepest part of the slope, his breath hitching in huge gasps of the frigid air.

"There you go, that's it. Whoa, whoa, steady there. It's okay, we're getting there."

Sam kept up a steady litany as he sidestepped down the rougher part of the path, trying to leave Dean the clearer central section.

"Sam."

Dean grit through teeth clenched tight against his desire to scream.

"Sam. I'm not a goddamned dog. Quit talking to me like I'm a freakin' idiot."

He snarled, anger rising to mask his pain.

Sam bit back the angry comment of his own. Rolling his eyes, he risked a glance further down the track to where the path petered away to less than four feet wide. The only thing between them and the edge of the mist drenched chasm at that point was a picture postcard perfect pine log, obviously placed there as a natural bench, for anyone brave enough to attempt the arduous climb to admire the spectacular views across the landmark waterfall.

It sat peacefully, glistening in the moonlight, under a thick layer of driven snow. Sprigs of pinecones jutted picturesquely from several small branches and a gentle lacing of Ivy, visible even through its snowy overcoat, clung to the rough bark. The normally comforting image of a roaring fire with the Yuletide log as its centrepiece made Sam's blood run cold in his veins.

"Nah, now I'm getting paranoid." He breathed to himself.

Turning back to the task in hand, he shuffled further down the slope, the log all but forgotten.

"'M sorry, Sammy. I didn't mean to snap at ya."

The quiet voice surprised him with its close proximity, Dean was hunched towards him, his head almost touching Sam's as he huddled over his younger brother's supportive arm. Sweat darkened hair was plastered to the pale, bruised forehead and Sam reached out automatically to gently push it back from the wound.

"No problem, du…"

The rest of the statement was lost as the poorly stabilised shale beneath Sam's boot tread chose that moment to work free and begin a tumbling descent down the slippery slope. Sam staggered, throwing his left arm wide and going down heavily on his right hip, feet scrabbling desperately for purchase on the snow covered ground.

The sudden change in pitch threw Dean totally off balance, his knee contacted the iron hard ground and he screamed, his body jack-knifing to curl protectively round the injured limb. His anchor gone, Dean pitched sideways, feet gone from under him he slid, gaining momentum as gravity took an interest, straight down the track heading for the edge.

Frantically he cried out, arms flailing as he wildly attempted to arrest his slide.

"Saaaamm!"

Sam lunged manically, missing Dean's jacket by mere inches.

"Dean, no!"

He hollered, watching in horror as Dean slammed up against a small boulder. Whilst the impact had diverted Dean from the precipitous edge of the path, the resounding crack of his head, against the conveniently placed log was less than reassuring.

Sam lay, momentarily frozen to the spot, heart racing as he took in the scene before him.

"Dean, oh god, no. Dean?" The whispered words escaped his disbelieving lips.

"Dean?" Louder this time, he slithered quickly down the remainder of the slope, glancing nervously towards where the path ended and the drop began. Unable to stop himself, he crunched into the unconcerned Yule log, reaching out with shaking hands to the silent body of his big brother where he lay, unmoving, in the churned up snow.

Gently he turned Dean's unresisting body, rolled it away from the log to carefully pull it across his lap, keeping him out of the worst of the snow.

"Oh, no. Oh, Jesus, please no!" Sam's panicked words tumbled from his suddenly dry lips.

"Please, Dean, be okay. Please! You gotta be okay."

Gently he wiped the fresh smattering of snow, grit and blood from his brother's face, supporting his chin whilst he leant close, listening for signs of breathing.

"Oh, thank god." He felt the gentle puff of warm air against his cheek.

"Dean, come on, bro. Just talk to me. Please? Come on, you're okay. I gotcha."

Unconsciously, he rocked the still form, wincing as he registered the rising lump on the side of Dean's already bruised forehead. By the light of the moon he could see the blood splattered snow where the precious liquid dripped a steady trail from a deep gash above his left eye.

"Dean, please wake up?"

He searched his pockets, returning triumphant with an almost clean handkerchief, which he pressed tightly against the open wound.

"Uunnrrggghhh." A long, slow groan and slight flicker of the eyelids met his gesture.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Dean. I know it must hurt. Please just wake up for me, dude!"

Another painful moan cut through the night air, a stirring of the head accompanied by fluttering of the long dark lashes, indicating a return to consciousness.

"Sam? Sammy?" The words ghosted from bleeding lips, as confused emerald green rose, searching for his brother's face.

"Hey, Dean. Uh, man you gave me a scare there. Dean, look at me. You okay?"

"Wha… happened, Smmy? Why 'm I on your lap?"

"Uh, I don't know how to tell you this, Dean, but I guess you just got saved from taking a nosedive over the waterfall by this uh, log!"

Dean squinted in confusion, wincing as he moved his head.

"Holy crap that hurts, Sammy. Everything hurts!"

"I know, I know. Just lay still for a little while, and then we'll find somewhere to stop and get you patched up. There's trees up ahead, we'll stop, clean you up a little and have something to eat. But just give it a minute, okay? Get your breath back!"

"'Kay, Sammy! Hey, Sam… kinda looks like a Yule log, huh?" Dean nodded sleepily, more than willing to stay exactly where he was, uncertain whether he'd be able to get up when the time did come to move.

"Yeah, just like a freakin' big Yule log."

'_What in hell's name is going on here with all this festive symbolism, rescue crap?_'

Sam thought, getting more alarmed with every 'save'.

"Hey, at least we're at the bottom of the damned slope now, dude." Sam tried cheerfully.

Dean simply rolled his eyes once and leant in towards the warmth of his baby brother.

Ends


	6. Chapter 6 Save 5 On Dasher, On Dancer,

**The 12 Saves of Christmas**

Save Five – On Dasher, On Dancer, On Comet, On Cupid! 

December 22nd 9.45pm

"Dean?"

Sam twisted his head, trying to see through the swirling snow into his brother's eyes and shifted Dean's arm where it sat on his shoulders, as he helped him along the icy path. The elder Winchester didn't respond, his head hanging down as he focussed on the slippery surface. His forward motion was slow, his limp getting more pronounced as he leaned heavily on his crutch.

"Dean?"

Sam pulled on Dean's belt where he held onto it to help keep his brother from falling over, trying to attract his attention. Slowly, Dean raised his head and smiled a disarming, lop-sided grin.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Hey yourself."

Sam couldn't help but smile back, even though he was increasingly worried. That had been a hell of a bump to the head Dean had taken and, thick as his skull was Sam knew concussion was, probably inevitable.

"Were you singing, dude?"

Dean giggled in embarrassment.

"Yup!"

"Jingle Bells, right?"

Sam was softly incredulous.

"No...no...no, Sammy. You got it all wrong."

The older Winchester squeezed Sam's shoulder where his hand draped against his snow bedecked jacket.

"Not Jingle Bells, that's for wussies. I was humming Jingle Bell Rock...possibly the coolest Christmas song ever. Wanna join in? You can do the bass harmonies."

Sam shook his head in slight bemusement.

"No that's ok, Dean, I'll just..."

Dean wobbled to a halt and with a determined effort, focussed his slightly blown, green eyes on Sam's hazel.

"We can sing something else if you'd rather?"

Dean interrupted his voice full of sincerity and Sam found himself smiling again.

"No, it's cool, Dean, you carry on. You have a good singing voice, you know? Does it help with your knee?"

Sam's gaze took Dean's wobbly focus to his own knee.

"Ppppfft!"

Dean huffed out a dismissing breath, a look of slight confusion flickering across his features.

"Knee's just fine, Sammy."

He patted Sam's shoulder again to reassure his baby brother. Sam nodded as he asked in knowing disbelief.

"So, it doesn't hurt at all, huh?"

Dean shook his head fervently and Sam watched pain ghost across his pale face at the movement.

"Your head hurt?"

Sam let go of Dean's waistband and raised his hand to the great duck egg of a bump on his brother's forehead.

Dean jerked his head away from the probing fingers.

"Ouch, Sammy!"

He grumbled,his hand flying to his throbbing temple.

"Jeeze, that hurts...I've got a lump the size of a Christmas pudding. What did you do to me, Sam?"

He looked at his baby brother with the accusatory stare that Sam had seen so many times as a child. Sam's nervousness about Dean's head injury ramped up another notch.

"Don't you remember spectacularly breaking your fall just now by smashing your head into that nice, big Yule log?"

Sam held Dean's unfocussed green eyes, looking for some recollection of the fourth 'save' of Christmas.

"Why the hell would I do that, Sam?"

Dean tutted with the stupidity of Sam's explanation as he shuffled on his unsteady legs. He planted his third 'leg' solidly into the banked snow, seeking stability but the movement pulled at his bandaged knee creasing his face with pain.

"My knee hurts, too, Sam."

His voice was a bit childlike in its petulance and Sam watched as fatigue flooded suddenly across his brother's usually stoic face. He glanced around looking for somewhere to settle Dean down so he could get some rest. They were still too near to the summit of the butte and its howling winds, so Sam again took hold of his unusually compliant brother and together they continued their perilous downhill path, towards the more thickly pine-covered quiet, lower down the slope.

wWw

The Christmas Hiker's ethereal presence coalesced in the eddying snowflakes behind them. His angular face was animated with cadaverous shadows as he smiled. They were retracing their steps to exactly where he wanted them to be. They would soon be his, and his long anticipated plans would be brought to fruition. He drifted behind them as they trudged painfully through the mounting blizzard, his eerie moans of delight counterpointing the snow-bestowed silence.

wWw

"Ahhhh!"

Dean snuggled himself deeper into the warm carpet of needles and organic debris that cluttered the base of the massive spruce tree that Sam had stashed him under. The ground under the thick evergreen canopy was dry, out of the wind and felt almost warm and the dense spruce branches kept all but the rarest flake of snow from them. He felt his eyes beginning to close and he smiled, breathing in the sweet, clean fragrance of the ancient trees.

"Nice, Sam."

He murmured as his brother helped him shed his backpack and settled him down.

"You feeling warmer?"

Sam crouched beside Dean, rummaging through his own backpack, taking stock of what emergency items they had with them that might be of immediate use. It was clear to the younger Winchester that his big brother needed to rest for a while. He pulled out the small can of lighter fluid they always carried for salt and burns and smiled, thinking how much easier that would make building a fire. Further down in his pack he found the 'space' blanket he had bought in an outdoor supply store months earlier. Sam grinned, remembering the shit Dean had given him about the thirty dollars it had cost.

"Here, Dean. This'll help warm you up till I can get the fire lit."

"Fire? We staying here, Sammy?"

Dean's weary gaze found Sam's and the younger Winchester prep'd his argument for spending the night under their makeshift shelter.

"Well, Dean, it's blowing a blizzard out there and ..."

Dean held up a silencing hand, catching Sam on the side of the head, his depth perception clearly affected by his altercation with the log.

"Oops, sorry, Sam. You're a bit fuzzy there."

He mumbled.

"I think it's a good idea. I'm fine, of course, but no doubt you, being less used to this amount of physical exertion, might well be tired. So, I think we should hunker down here and get a few hours sleep and then we can press on at first light."

Sam rocked back on his heels, amazed that Dean would admit the sense in his virtually unvoiced plan.

"Ummm...Well, okay Dean. If that's what you think."

Dean nodded.

"That's settled then. Are you doing something with that thing or just wafting it about?"

"Huh?"

Dean tipped his chin at the space blanket in Sam's hand, his eyes drooping closed as he yawned.

"Oh, yeah."

Sam flustered as he leaned forward and tucked the shiny, aluminium-like material around his brother's muscular form. Dean opened his eyes as the fabric enfolded his aching limbs. Moon shadows raced silvery paths across the shiny blanket and Dean chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

Sam sat back on his heels again as Dean propped himself up slightly on his elbows and gazed with concussion-confused eyes back at him.

"I look like a turkey dressed for the oven!"

Sam joined in the laughter, tucking the blanket tighter round Dean's legs as he lay there chortling. His hands brushed against Dean's boots. They were wet through, a sheen of ice covering the worn leather. He glanced up as he began to unlace them.

"Your boots are soaked, Dean. Are your feet cold?"

"Nope!"

Dean smiled happily as his head wobbled slightly on his shoulders.

"Not cold at all."

He added emphatically.

Sam pulled the first sopping boot from his brother's foot and wrapped his hand around Dean's toes. They were icy cold.

"Dean! They're freezing."

"Nope!"

The giggling hunter re-iterated adamantly.

"Not cold, Sammy. Totally and utterly numb."

Sam tutted and stripped his brother's dripping socks off. He rummaged in his pack, looking for the spare socks they were used to carrying as part of their emergency equipment. He found them after moments of searching and looked back up, only to find Dean had burrowed his bare feet into the spruce needle coverlet and was sealing his swaddled toes in the space blanket.

"Is that warm enough?"

Sam put his hand on top of Dean's improvised comforter and was delighted to feel heat radiating beneath his hand.

"Toasty, Sammy, just toasty."

Dean smiled happily back at his brother as Sam returned to searching his pack for provisions. He was rewarded with socks, a spare T-shirt and some granola bars for his efforts. Reaching over he pulled Dean's rucksack close. A quick search yielded a further two odd socks, an almost clean T-shirt and a dented metal drinking cup.

"You hungry, Dean?"

Sam held the granola bar up into Dean's telescoping eye line.

"Phhfft!"'

Dean exhaled dismissively at the 'health-food' treat and gestured with his hand for Sam to pass him his backpack. He struggled to a sitting position and Sam placed the small pack in his lap. Seconds later Dean's face lit up and he pulled from the dark interior a familiar yellow sack.

"Peanut M&M's?"

Sam scoffed, as Dean discarded the backpack and wiggled the candy bag for Sam to wonder at.

"Survival food, Sammy!"

Dean protested, sniffing the chocolate covered confectionary appreciatively.

"Okay, bro."

Sam conceded the point, happy that Dean still seemed to be reasonably coherent. The bruising from his head injury was radiating slowly from his temple and Sam could see that he was gonna have a handsome shiner by the morning. He was relieved they were gonna spend the night within the tree's majestic embrace.

"I need to get us a fire going..."

Sam mused, glancing around for suitable kindling.

"Too damn right you do."

Dean grumbled.

"Thought you'd never get round to it! Look, there's plenty of smaller twigs amongst the spruce needles and if you cut a few of the dry old branches from the base of the tree they'll burn real well."

"I know how to set a god-damn fire, Dean."

Sam's earlier concerns were efficiently swept away by the appearance of Dean in full patronising big-brother mode.

"Okay, okay..."

Dean held his hands up in surrender and snuggled further under the blanket.

"I was only trying to help."

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

Sam squeezed Dean's leg beneath the blanket in apology.

"Ouch!"

Dean whinged dramatically, and Sam laughed as he set about gathering enough wood to not only start the fire, but keep it going all night.

wWw

The ghost's pale eyes absorbed the burst of activity beneath the ancient spruce with mounting impatience. They were no doubt digging in for the night and that meant yet longer until he could bring his plans to fruition. His mournful voice carried in the snow-brightened darkness, betraying his endless pain and loneliness.

wWw

"Sam..?"

Dean had settled back down into his hollowed out, organic 'sleeping-bag' and his voice was sleepy and childlike.

"I'm really thirsty...Can you get me a drink?"

Sam looked up from his task. The fire was almost set and ready to light but Dean's request was so plaintive. He picked up the dented mug and looked briefly over his shoulder towards the sound of the tumbling waterfall. He glanced back at his sibling and found his breath catch in his chest as Dean's deep green eyes reflected the pale of the full moon back at him. Vulnerability briefly poured from his accomplished, controlled brother and Sam felt his throat tighten as he responded.

"Sure thing, Dean. I'll go down to the river and get ya a drink before I light this. I want to be sure it burns safe under the tree so don't light it till I come back, will you?"

Dean nodded, his chin brushing his chest as he hunkered under his spruce needle comforter. "Will you be okay for 5 minutes?"

Dean nodded, yawning softly.

"You won't be any longer, will you?"

Sam rose to his feet, crouching beneath the canopy of spruce.

"Okay, two minutes, Dean. It's just down the slope a ways."

"'Kay, Sam."

Dean mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Try and stay awake till I get back, Dean. You need some fluids and something to eat, and then you can sleep."

"Okay."

Dean forced his eyes wide open.

"I'll sing!"

Sam laughed, thinking he must remember all this to torment Dean with after the concussion was resolved.

"Sure, Dean. You do that."

"What?"

Dean's perplexed face was pale in the moonlight.

"What, what?"

Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"What...shall...I...sing?"

Dean spoke like Sam was an idiot, and it was all he could do not to collapse laughing at his brother's confusion.

"Oh...umm? A Christmas song? Deck the Halls?"

Dean smiled, a huge grin plastering his face.

"With Boughs of Holly?"

Sam nodded, unsure what had so amused his brother. Dean thumped himself resoundingly on the chest.

"It could be my theme song, Sammy. Deck the 'Dean' with Boughs of Holly!"

Sam shook his head and turned down the slope towards the river, his brother's lilting tenor ringing raucously in his ears.

wWw

The slope to the river was sheet ice sprinkled as it was with spray from the thirty foot falls. Sam's feet went out from under him as he stepped onto the path and he tumbled, all long legs and arms, towards the deep pool that formed the base of the spectacular waterfall. He grabbed desperately at trees and bushes as he slithered towards the freezing water but everything was slick with ice and he could not gain any purchase.

Panic started to envelope Sam; knowing that the river water would likely be cold enough to kill him in minutes, and he did the only thing he could think of to do. He yelled.

"Dean!"

wWw

Dean stopped in mid, drunken "fa-la-la-lala" at the sound of Sam's terrified cries. That one word instantly banished any haziness from Dean's concussed brain and he leapt to his feet, throwing aside the blanket, and sore knee bedamned, sprinted in the direction Sam had disappeared. His brother's massive tracks were easy to follow in the virgin snow and Dean was just in sight of the falls when the splash of Sam entering the deep pool cut the snowy silence.

Dean screamed into the swirling snow,

"Sam!"

And he charged, shedding his heavy jacket and over-shirt, as he arched powerfully and dived into the liquid black pool.

The first contact with the water blasted the air from Sam's shocked lungs. The pool was so cold he could not breathe and the tumble down the slope had left him so disorientated he could not, in the darkness, tell surface from river bottom. He drifted in hypothermic shock, too cold to fight for his life as the crashing water tossed him like a leaf in the inky darkness.

Dean's surge of adrenaline coursed feverishly around his bruised body, protecting him from the morbid frigidity of the icy water. He piked elegantly and dove for the base of the obsidian pool, his instincts for Sam, as much as his sight, taking him to his stricken brother. The churning waters of the foaming pool tumbled Sam away from him as he fought to grab hold of his brother's helpless form but Dean's desperate hand finally grasped the sleeve of Sam's jacket and he was able to pull his brother's inert body to his own.

He kicked hard for the surface, knee protesting bitterly as his lungs burned with the effort. Dean broke the surface with an enormous gasp, pulling air urgently into his tortured lungs, and carefully turning Sam in his arms to ensure his brother could breathe in the frigid air,

"Sam!"

Dean's breathless voice was brittle in the cold, clear night as the currents and eddies in the waterfall fed pool battered the exhausted pair.

"Sammy, can you hear me?"

He shook Sam in his arms, pressing his hand to his brother's chest, feeling for a heart beat as he tried to keep Sam's head above water.

"Pl...please, S...Sam!"

The water buffeted against Dean, tossing him like he was weightless against the jagged rocks that hid below the surface of the dark waters. He curled his body around his brother's trying to shield Sam from the knocks from the boulders as the freezing temperatures sapped his scant remaining energy.

"S...Sam...help me h...here. Can't hold ya...much longer."

The teeming cauldron sucked the struggling Winchesters below the surface, pulling them below the tumbling deluge of the falls. Dean hugged Sam to his chest as the rocks battered and bruised his body. A direct impact to his injured knee drew a scream from his blued lips as his strength was almost completely depleted. He was losing the fight and there was nothing more he could do.

wWw

Ten miles up the river course the father of the household looked into the tear stained faces of his large brood. Their collective pouts and quivering lips near broke his festive heart.

"Well, you see kids, Santa needed one of the guys to help him with the presents and it was Cupid's turn so he had to go back to the North Pole..."

They looked at the thirty foot display of inflatable reindeer and Santa's sleigh that adorned their roof. Dasher, Dancer and Prancer were all present and correct. Vixen stood to attention in her traces alongside her brothers Donner and Blitzen. Even the flaky Comet held her ground, her guy ropes quivering in the wind. Cupid, however, was conspicuous by his absence. The gale force winds that night having sent him sailing off into the clear, midnight-blue sky. It was a festive disaster that was to turn to spectacular triumph.

wWw

If you had asked Dean if there was anything that might come to 'save' Sam and him from their mortal peril on this occasion, he would likely not have credited their continuation on this Earth to a giant, inflatable reindeer. Especially not one called Cupid. However, he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, or even a gift reindeer, and so when Cupid tumbled over the falls and floated near to him, he had no hesitation in grabbing the bobbing quadruped and draping Sam over its back to float him to the shore. With Sam's weight supported, Dean was able to catch his breath and, clinging tightly to Cupid, kick weakly for the rocky bank.

Still, it took him precious minutes to propel them the few feet in the rough currents and by the time he could grab at the vegetation on the pool's edge, he was so utterly exhausted he could barely pull air into his lungs. The size of their blow up saviour meant that it was a relatively easy job to push Sam onto the shore, however, and then all Dean had to do was crawl out beside him. That was harder than he had imagined it would be though and by the time Dean flopped his upper body beside his brother, he could hear Sam loudly hacking up half the contents of the murky pool.

It was one of the best sounds he had ever heard.

Ends


	7. Chapter 7 The Little Christmas Tree

**The 12 Saves of Christmas**

Save 6 The Little Christmas Tree

December 23rd 00.45am

Cold: the word didn't even begin to scratch the surface of what he felt. Cold, had no power to convey the deeply cutting, mind-numbing all encompassing pain that he felt right now. Every fibre of his being seemed to shrivel in on itself, muscles shrieked with the strain and shock of his unexpected plunge into the ice-cold waters of the dark, seething pool.

In the water, as he fought down through the eddying currents, desperately searching for his baby brother, the cold had been secondary. He was in full-on big brother mode and '_Find Sam_!' was the only objective to pierce his one-track mind.

Now, however, as he lay trembling, one arm curled protectively over the feebly moving legs of his softly spluttering brother, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that had he been on his own he would have, could have, moved no further.

The icy wind, adding insult to injury, played cruelly over his t-shirt clad back, the sodden, clinging cotton doing nothing to prevent the cutting gusts as they attempted to steal away the last remnants of his already seriously depleted body heat.

Blinking the freezing droplets from stinging eyes, he raised his head, wincing as the small movement set the world to spinning. Desperately struggling to control his numb, oddly disconnected feeling limbs, he scrabbled at the wet denim beneath his crooked right arm, feebly shaking the leg beneath.

"S…S…Sammy," He managed through fiercely chattering teeth.

"S…Sammy. W..wake up, d…d…dammit." He pounded weakly on the unresponsive leg.

'_Oh, crap! I gotta get the kid back to shelter. At least he's still __breathing._'

Dean sucked in a gasp of frigid air, trying to steel himself for the task ahead.

'_Okay, move it! Now! Come on! Suck it up, Winchester. That's Sammy lying there, don't just give up and leave him to die.'_ The stern voice of his father snapped him back to the most pressing task at hand.

Dean hauled himself up from the flat grey rock on arms that quivered, whether from the piercing cold or from weakness he neither knew nor cared. Pushing all other thoughts and sensations from his mind he forcefully dragged his legs clear of the icy water. Mercifully numb, he didn't register the fresh bruises and lacerations that adorned his straining form.

With disbelieving eyes, he quickly took in the length of his younger sibling lying prone, draped across the still hissing, slowly deflating carcass of the huge, glitter festooned reindeer.

"H…hell, you gotta be k…kidding me!" '_Okay, this is unreal, must be a dream. Maybe I'll wake up soon._'

Slowly, he shook his head; ice-cold rivulets of river water trickled down his neck. Shuddering, he leant over the slowly stirring Sam.

"S…Sam." His voice rasped brokenly. He coughed, spitting to clear the coppery taste of blood from his mouth, wiping a shaking hand roughly across his lips.

"S…Sammy, you okay?" Shivering he reached out an uncertain hand to brush the lank hair from his brothers fluttering eyelids.

"Sam, dammit. Wake up, dude! We g…gotta get out of here. Now! Come on, man. G…gimme a br…break here."

Sam drifted, unconcerned. Vaguely he felt the discomfort of his grazed knuckles against the hard rock and, if he concentrated, the sounds and smells of the forest and the awful piercing cold trickled into his consciousness, so he shied away. He preferred to remain in the comfortable, anonymous darkness. He felt safe, could sense the reassuring presence of his big brother, and knew all would be well.

Well, at least he thought all was well, until he heard the somewhat less than comforting voice of said big brother shouting loudly in his ear, calling him back from the happy, dissociated world where he'd taken up temporary residence.

Just to confirm that things might be a little less than perfect, the gentle patting at his back grew more insistent and he sensed his shoulder being grabbed more roughly, his face turned towards the dim light.

His eyelids fluttered, and suddenly the outside world came rushing in with an intensity that left him breathless. The bone-chilling, biting cold cut through the final vestiges of his lethargy, confirming without a shadow of a doubt that things were pretty far from being either safe or well.

"Huuuhhhl"

He gasped, desperately lurching upwards, his head contacting with something hard as Dean shouted into his ear. Sam's arms curled around himself as the arctic wind knifed through his water-drenched clothes.

"Dean?"

His eyes searched wildly for his brother as memories of his unplanned dip came flooding back. He didn't have far to look before his bloodshot, hazel eyes came to rest on the hunched figure of his older sibling, kneeling beside him, clutching the side of his head with both hands.

"H…holy crap, Sam! Is that the th…thanks I get for dragging your s…sorry ass back to dry land? You h…head butted me, man! Hell, n…n…next time I'll j…just go get my own drink, it'll be quicker and s…safer!"

Dean exclaimed loudly, rocking back on his heels and shaking his head to clear it of the fresh batch of stars that danced before his glazed, jade eyes.

"D…D…Dean? Oh g…god. S…s…sorry m…man!"

"F…forget it, Sammy. Come on, we g…gotta get out of this w…w…wind."

Dean reached out; taking hold of Sam's heaving shoulders he shuffled forwards, wincing and stumbling into his dazed brother as fresh shards of pain knifed up from his pulsing knee.

"W…work with me here, I d…don't think I can lift you, S…S…Sam."

Sam blinked slowly, shrinking down into his jacket, seeking protection from the icy blasts that buffeted them both. Suddenly his head snapped up.

"J..Jeez, Dean. You need more than a T…t…t shirt in this w…w…weather. Y…you'll c..catch your d…d…death."

"Well, th…thank you, C…captain Obvious!" Dean snarked, grunting as he shifted his weight to favour his left leg.

Sam twisted onto his knees and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. Water streamed from hidden pools within his jacket. As he leant down to help Dean up, he did a double take as his glance fell upon the now almost flattened form of the inflatable reindeer. Oblivious to his brother's sarcasm, Sam continued, with eyes held wide.

"D…Dean, is that what I th…th…think it is?"

"Well if y…you think it's a b..big-assed, bl…blow up reindeer. Then, you betcha, Sammy! R…rescued from the d…depths by a fr…freakin' red-nosed r…reindeer!"

Dean shuddered as his gaze fell resignedly to the crushed beast lying by his knees. His eyes lit up briefly and, trembling, he reached behind him for the sharp knife secured at his belt.

"Dude, h…help me here! Hold R…r…Rudolph st…steady."

Confused, Sam grasped the cold, wet, stiff, heavy duty PVC skin and Dean proceeded to slice it from below the jaw right the way down the middle. Hands slipping as he pried the cold-hardened plastic apart.

Even though he was freezing his ass off, Sam couldn't help but notice the nametag around the blow up Bambi's neck.

"Dean?"

"Ummm?"

"Actually he's C…Cupid."

Dean looked at his brother like he had lost his mind.

"D…dude, does it matter?"

Sam's pale face coloured slightly in disorientated embarrassment.

"Well it m…might to him."

Dean shook his head in disbelief.

"Wh…whatever, dude. Just h…help me up, already?"

They clung to each other as Dean attempted to regain his feet, bringing the reindeer with him as he moved.

"W…w…windbreak!"

He announced proudly in reply to Sam's questioning gaze, carefully re-sheathing the deadly blade.

"J…just like Han Solo rescuing L…Luke in 'The Empire Strikes Back', well 'cepting that he g…gutted a tauntaun with L…L…Luke's L…lightsaber, to keep them w…warm!"

Sam's face creased in bemusement as understanding dawned on him.

"And you call m…me a g…geek?"

"Wh…what, Sammy? Essential s…survival skills!"

Together they rearranged themselves under the sheltering PVC hide. It was icy cold and wet but more than capable of keeping the wind from the two seriously suffering Winchester boys.

Sam grabbed a handful of Dean's belt, hitching the other's left arm over his own broad shoulder. He felt the constant tremors that wracked his brother's body, and peered through the snow ahead, trying to locate the best route up to the snow covered path.

"D…Dean? Any idea h…how far it is b…back to the tree?"

"Nah, Sam. I took a sh…sh…short cut on the way down, remember?"

Dean turned to locate the waterfall behind him, and then looked back to the jumble of rocks ahead, face locked in concentration.

"Don't think it's too f…far. J…just up there where the sl…slope levels out a little."

He pointed with his chin.

Together they stumbled the short distance across the polished flint and granite of the river's border to the larger boulders that marked the climb up the side, to the path. The eight or so paces had already taken their toll on the elder brother's injured knee, and by the time they stood searching for the easiest route over the silent sentinels that lined the river side, the only thing keeping him on his feet was the towering giant beside him. At least the activity had gone a small way to warming them both.

"Looks like this's about the lowest point." He glanced down dubiously at his brother's knee.

"Dude! Quit staring at m…me. 'M okay!" Dean gritted his teeth against the pain.

"Sit!" Sam ordered, "I'll be r…right back." He propped his scowling sibling against one of the lower rocks, then clambered unsteadily over the slick rocks up to the top of the path.

"Dean? Can you st…stand up and g…give me your hand? I'll h…help pull you up. Just drop C…Cupid."

He smirked down at his brother unable to resist.

"I know you're unnaturally fond of the b…big sparkly guy, d…dude, but don't worry, I'll come back down for him, I p…promise."

Dean was, for once, too tired to give as good a he got, but a slight smile crinkled the corner of his mouth as he pushed himself, one-legged off the granite. Hugging the unwieldy, plastic robe closer about himself, he stood, wavering, as the gusts buffeted around him.

'I can do this! I can do this!' He chanted silently, raising his eyes heavenward to find his goal. Sam's long arm dangled down towards him, hand outstretched.

'_Dammit, I gotta do this!_' He placed his left palm firmly against the rock face, balanced squarely on his right leg, and then reluctantly released his hold on the faux-reindeer hide. He stretched up, fingertips just brushing against Sam's as Cupid dropped away behind him. He felt the world resume its slow spinning as he shuffled painfully, closer to the wall. Sam leant out further over the ledge and their hands finally contacted.

"I'll pull you up, okay? Just try and help me, push up with your good leg, alright?" Sam's voice instructed.

Dean simply nodded up at the looming figure above him, he scrabbled for a grip on the rock face with his left hand, felt the strain as Sam hauled steadily on his right. As his good leg left the ground he swung awkwardly, twisting to prevent the damaged left knee from colliding with the wall. His numb, socked feet scrabbling futilely as he sought to gain purchase on the rock face. Only the knowledge that having to do it all over again would be even worse, kept him going. Well, that and Sam's determined grip on his hand.

Together they struggled, cursing and slipping, Dean losing the battle to keep his savagely burning knee away from the jutting rocks. Agony burst through him afresh as his right foot slipped, the toes smashing violently into the cold uncaring granite.

"Goddamned sonofa'"

He spluttered, as red lights burst before his startled eyes.

Sam grimaced as grasping fingers ground painfully into the flesh of his hands, he heard the frantic intake of breath and he redoubled his efforts.

Eventually, Dean's bruised and battered head drew level with the pathway and, gratefully, he threw his arm up and over onto the path above. His broad shoulders straining at the taut material of his t-shirt as he sucked in great gulps of the icy, stinging air.

The tight grip disengaged silently from his hand to be re-instated moments later in his belt, and with a mighty heave, Sam dragged the older man up onto the snow-crested slope beside him. They both lay there, shattered beyond belief, with a quickly growing snowstorm building around them. Above, the clear, cold moonlight was broken with ever-increasing frequency by the fast moving approach of the heavy snow-laden, clouds.

Sam lay back, regarding the threatening sky with increasing concern as, beside him, Dean slowly curled himself into a ball, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the fresh onslaught of the wind driven snow on the open track. Lying on his side, rocking, he hugged his knees to his chest, grinding his teeth, as he tried in vain to prevent the anguished groans from passing between his blue tinged lips.

"Oh god!" Sam whispered, shrugging out of his own soaking jacket and laying the heavy cloth across his brother, attempting to keep the bitter wind from him, as he lay exposed to the frigid night air.

"'m sorry, Sammy." Dean murmured, distractedly, as he finally lost his battle against the rising tide of pain and exhaustion that pulled him down into its warm, dark embrace.

"Ah, no. Dammit, Dean. I need to get you someplace warm. Like now! Come on, man! H…help me out here."

Nothing penetrated the thick fog that shrouded his awareness, as Dean's overly abused body tumbled into shutdown mode. He never felt the rough shaking of his shoulder, nor the hands that gathered him up and carried his dead weight, slipping and sliding, desperately up the ice-strewn track, back to the shelter of the majestic spruce. Never felt the scratch of soft fir sprays against his face as Sam struggled on ice-numbed feet, under the low-lying boughs and out of the cutting winds of the gale that accompanied the approaching storm.

Sam stumbled, struggling under the load of his comatose brother, back up the track, towards the bottom of the steep slope. The moonlight, which had earlier lit the path with startling clarity, was now concealed behind a glowering bank of cloud that lumbered ominously across the sky.

Panting heavily, he huffed out clouds of misting breath that were instantly whipped away by the harsh wind that harried him along the narrow track. Blinking furiously to clear his streaming eyes, he peered into the gloom, searching for the low sweeping branches of the white spruce where they had earlier set up camp.

'Dammit, Dean. I'm sorry, dude! I gotta put you down, just for a minute. I can't see a damn thing and all the damned trees look the same, anyway!'

Lines of worry etched his face as he searched for somewhere safe to lay his burden. Suddenly his booted foot caught on something across the path, something lying partially concealed under a fresh drifting of snow. He staggered to a halt, ready to move around the obstruction, unwilling to risk a fall on the tapering track, he stepped back just as a shaft of pure moonlight broke through the cloud cover, momentarily lighting the area as bright as day.

Sam's questing eyes picked out the indentations of footsteps, the dark shadows casting relief starkly n the moonlight. The obstacle at his feet, revealed as the sleeve of what could only be Dean's leather jacket, discarded on the pathway before them. A wider sweep of the area revealed the results of Sam's previous slide down to the edge of the chasm, the handle of the dented metal mug just visible where Sam had scrabbled for purchase on the slippery slope.

'_Okay, looks like we're in business, dude! I guess we're home for the night.'_

Gratefully, Sam sank to his knees beside the ground hugging branches, the glimpse of moonlight all he'd needed to re-orientate himself. He lowered Dean carefully down and grasped him under the shoulders, hauling the unconscious body up onto his lap. He shrugged under the lowest boughs and shuffling backwards, worked his way into the concealed den.

Instantly the shriek of the wind around his head dropped, replaced by the low creaks and groans of ancient wood swaying in time with the gusting currents of air. He knelt, sucking in huge gulps of the dry, spruce scented air, ears still ringing with the echoes of the gale outside.

Fatigued muscles shook as he pulled the small torch from his inner pocket, praying it would live up to its waterproof claims. He pressed the rubber switch and slumped in relief as the tiny torch illuminated the surroundings, the canopy of brown needles that just brushed against the top of his head. The soft, deep carpet of discarded needles from years past and, more importantly, the gentle curve of the sweeping boughs that reached down to the ground, providing shelter from both wind and snow.

Sam carefully manoeuvred the ice cold form of his brother back into the 'nest' he had made for him earlier, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He wiped a bloodstained hand across his forehead, rubbing at his temples, attempting to stop the ringing noise.

"Dean, I'm gonna get these wet clothes off you, man. Then I'm gonna go get your jacket, it's just outside. When I get back I'll get the fire going in no time, I promise."

He transferred the Maglite to his mouth and with fingers aching from the cold, he peeled off the dark stained socks, wincing as he revealed the bloodied, broken nails, and spreading bruising on the two largest toes on the right foot.

"Holy crap, Dean!"

Sam ran his trembling hands through his frost whitened hair.

'_Jesus!_ _ There's no way you're walking out of here on that tomorrow even if we can get your boots back on.'_

Now that he had stopped moving, the bitter cold of his soaking clothes began to penetrate his exhausted frame. He fumbled to undo Dean's belt buckle. At any second he expected the sardonic tone of his sibling's voice instructing him to get his hands off the merchandise, but soft rasping breaths were the only accompaniment to his shuddering efforts.

Waves of dizziness rolled over him as black spots danced before his eyes.

"No, no, no, don't even think it." He begged, leaning forwards onto his hands as he sucked in deep breaths.

"Okay, this isn't working. Dean? I'm going out just to get your jacket in here; I'll be back in two minutes."

Gently he rested his hand against his brother's forehead, watching for any sign of acknowledgment. Getting none, he scuffled out into the ever-worsening night, breath catching in his throat as the winds buffeted him brusquely.

He played the torch across the ground and locating the jacket, complete with his brother's heavy shirts inside, quickly bent to retrieve them, batting at them to remove the thick layer of snow. Turning to leave, the torch beam glinted upon the handle of the tin mug as it lay wedged against the roots of a stunted holly bush.

Sam fell to his knees, unwilling to risk another unplanned dip, and reached down the icy slope. He managed to hook his fingers around the handle, and rose triumphantly, brushing off the fresh coating of snow as he hunched his way back to the shelter of their tree. Shivering violently, he ducked low and gratefully entered the oasis of calm beneath the sheltering boughs.

He shrugged from his jacket, shirt boots and jeans, throwing them to the other side of the trunk and quickly pulled one of his brother's shirts from the interior of the leather jacket. The steady light from his torch, played across the ridged muscles of his tense abdomen as he shrugged into the cold, but mercifully dry, undershirt. He sighed with pleasure as the soft material enfolded his bare upper body. With hands that shook, he grabbed his brother's rucksack, and offering up a prayer of thanks for the fire he had already set in the cleared area, he grappled around for the matches.

The sudden flare from the match and the comforting aroma of the saltpetre igniting did much to calm his fraying nerves. The flame flickered, dulling briefly as he offered it to the small pile of wood shavings. Sam had chosen not to start off with lighter fluid, as the whole underside of the tree was bone dry and the oils in the spruce would need little persuasion to burn. He'd been careful to clear all the needles from the immediate area of the impromptu fire-pit to ensure there was no accidental spread.

Greedily, the little flame licked at the curls of bark, the burst of light and sudden puff of heat as it caught and spread was a little taste of heaven to Sam. Concentrating, he fed the flames, gradually adding larger kindling, allowing it time to catch before adding the bigger pieces of broken branches. Within minutes, a small, fiercely burning fire lit the cosy scene, the smoke rising to filter away into the canopy overhead. Flickering light bounced off the eerily moving fronds, and shadows leapt in crazy relief as warmth began to suffuse the hideaway.

wWw

The ghost of the Christmas Hiker peered in from the howling tempest, understanding the brothers need for shelter, vaguely remembering what it felt like to feel the pleasure of soft heat on cold skin. He knew they both needed to rest, could see that if they were to be able to do what he needed them to do they had, at least, to be able to struggle on a few more miles. After that they could rest all they wanted and maybe, finally, so could he. So, he kept his vigil. The vestiges of his earthly body flying like decaying banners in the wind and snow as he shied away from the orange glow emanating from the safety of the tree, terrified of the devastating effect the flames may have on the dry, musty tatters he had become.

wWw

Sam turned back to his slowly stirring brother, confident that the fire had taken a hold. Awkwardly, he climbed over the shivering form and pushed him closer to the small flames. Grunting with the effort, he eased Dean into a sitting position and struggled against his cold-stiffened fingers to pull the ruined T-shirt from his body.

Dean sagged heavily against his brother's chest as Sam threw the T-shirt onto the pile of wet clothes. The undulating light revealed the fresh set of marks on his brother's violently shivering torso; Sam flinched at the livid bruising on his collarbone, ribs and back. The deep scratches from his original fall from the bluff, reopened by the rough buffeting of the waves.

Gently, he draped the chequered, soft flannel over-shirt over the scratches and gouges on his brother's back, and fought to place uncooperative arms within the sleeves. Dean groaned, almost in pleasure, as the warm, dry cloth comforted his ice-cold body.

"Hey, Dean. You back with me, buddy?" Sam tried hopefully.

But Dean just nestled into his brother's neck and mumbled something unintelligible.

"Whoa, whoa, dude. Come on! Wake up, man!"

Dean's head lolled towards the sound of Sam's voice, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled back to the surface. His eyes flew open as he lurched forwards, dazed emerald, blinking in confusion at the scene before him.

"Sam?" He panted bewildered. "Sammy, what the he…? Where…?" His brow wrinkled in deep confusion.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Dean." Sam comforted quietly, "We're fine, we're back under the tree. Just lie back. Just try and relax. There you go." He eased him down into the bed of needles.

"C…c…cold, S…S…Sammy!" He stammered through teeth that chattered.

"Don't worry, you'll soon warm up. Come on, I gotta get you outta those jeans, Dean."

"In y…your dr…dreams, Pr…Pr…Princess!"

Dean feebly swatted at his brother's cold hands, and groaned as he struggled with the wet leather of his belt.

"Here, Dean, let me help." Sam intoned quietly, attempting to minimize the damage to his brother's dignity.

"Get outta here, S…Samantha. I've been dressing myself since I was f…four years old. Don't need you to do it now!" He cried out as the deep gashes on his bruised knuckles caught on the cold, stiff denim.

"How's the knee feeling?"

"Just freakin' peachy, Sam. Dammit, hurts like a sonofabitch!" Dean panted as he raised his hips trying to shimmy out of the wet, clinging material.

Wordlessly, Sam grabbed a hold of the jeans and gently eased them down past his swollen knee. A deep gash oozed a steady trickle of blood, which ran into the loosely clinging bandage, fresh bruising in furious shades of blue and purple stood out on his pale flesh.

"Lemme get that wet dressing off you, it's only gonna make matters worse. It'll be dry by morning and I'll re-wrap it for you then."

"Yeah, whatever, Sam."

"You've torn your leg quite badly, Dean. It really needs stitches but I haven't got anything to suture it with. I'll sort it when we get to the car tomorrow."

Dean replied sleepily as he lay with eyes pressed tightly shut, breathing through the pain as he'd been taught to do. Sam smoothed out the crinkled space blanket and tucked it around the quivering figure.

He added more sticks to the fast burning fire and a fresh burst of warmth filled the interior. Gathering all the wet clothes, he shuffled to the other side of the tree-trunk and proceeded to hang the dripping items from the living boughs.

"So, lemme see what food you got in your bag, Dean? Gimme a couple of minutes and I'll see if I can rustle us up something to eat." His face lit up as his glance fell upon the retrieved mug.

He scooted back to the fire and emptied their meagre provisions into a small pile. He tipped water into the mug and set it close to the fire to warm.

"So, Dean, what's it to be? M&M's or Oaty Granola?"

"Not hungry. 'M tired."

"No you don't, Dean! Come on, wake up. You gotta eat something before you go to sleep!"

Dean shook his head to clear the encroaching darkness.

"Thanks, Sammy. 'M sorry I lost it back there!"

Dean's defeated voice drifted quietly across the small clearing.

"Dude, don't be crazy. Who do you think pulled me outta the water when I was half drowned? You saved me, you idiot! So, stop with the apologies or, so help me, I'm gonna spend the entire night listing every time you have saved me, and kill you with squirming embarrassment!"

Dean smiled tiredly, the gold of the flames lighting his eyes with emerald fire in the darkness.

"Okay, Sammy. No more apologies."

Sam smiled in return.

"Good, now sit up for me and eat some of these. They'll get your blood sugar back up and make you feel better."

He helped Dean to a sitting position and dropped a handful of the brightly coloured sweets into his brother's cupped hand.

Dean dutifully placed the candy in his mouth and closed his eyes as a look of contentment spread across his pale features.

"Dean, listen to me. I'm gonna have to take a look at your foot, okay. It looks like you've smashed up against something a fair bit harder than your toes. I need to wrap it up but I think it's gonna hurt, bro."

"'Kay, Sammy." Dean yawned round his mouthful of M&M's. The warmth of the fire was lulling him slowly to sleep.

Sam cleaned and wrapped the worst of Dean's increasing inventory of wounds with barely an expletive from his increasingly drowsy sibling. The toes were surely broken and Sam knew he should be worrying about how the hell Dean was gonna walk with a smashed up knee on one side and two broken toes on the other. But, somehow, all he could think about was how good it would be to rest his head down and sleep. He diligently fed the fire and then unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he shuffled under the second space blanket and within moments sank gratefully into a deep and dreamless sleep.

wWw

Soft, dappled light filtered through the dense overhead matrix, delivering an overall brightening of the enclosed area, that heralded the dawn. Sam groaned, shivering under the foil blanket, he rolled over onto his back and lay regarding his current surroundings. The small fire had burnt out and any lingering warmth long since dissipated. He sat up and stretched, aching muscles protesting the movement. Soft snores issued forth from his still sleeping brother and Sam quickly set about re-kindling the fire. The mug lay undisturbed where he had set it to warm and he moved it out of the way as the small flames spread.

As welcoming heat once again spread through the shelter, Sam realised what was different. The rising sound of the gale outside, which had been a constant backdrop, was gone. All was silent. He crawled to the edge of the den and tried to push through to the outside. A solid wall of white met him.

Snow had drifted in the storm of the night before, and a deep bank rested up against the tree. As Sam pushed through, his eyes fell upon a glistening vista, the bright sun shone down on a crystal clear morning. Everything was covered in a thick layer of shimmering white. The thick snow, with the low sweeping branches of the White Spruce, had effectively formed a wind-proof barrier, sealing them into a warm, safe haven for the night.

"Well, I'll be damned!" He mused quietly.

He ducked back inside, quickly, rubbing to warm his ears and hands, the wind had dropped but so had the temperature. Outside was bitterly cold.

Beside the fire, water was starting to steam gently, Sam hesitated then sprinkled half a Granola bar into it, mixing it with a slender twig, then he threw in a handful of M&M's for taste and stirred until they melted. He breathed in the sweet aroma appreciatively.

"Dean? Wake up, man."

The snoring stopped, replaced by a low growl, and then a reluctant gasp of pain as Dean turned onto his side, jarring his many injuries.

"Morning, Sammy." Dean yawned widely, "Where the holy hell are we?" Dean sat up gingerly, rubbing at his aching head.

"Don't you remember last night? I fell into the river and you pulled me out. We just about made it back up to this tree."

Comprehension slowly filtered across his face as memories of the night before found their way back. Silently, Sam passed the mug across to his brother.

"Dammit, so we're still up the friggin' mountain, huh?" Dean sniffed suspiciously at the offensive looking brew before taking a hesitant sip.

"Not bad, Sammy. Not bad at all!"

"Yeah, we're still up the mountain and we need to find a way down today. We've got half a packet of M&M's and 3 Granola bars left. The freaky-assed ghost is still tailing us, you're legs are all busted up, and there's been the mother of all snowstorms during the night. There's at least 2 ft of snow out there!" He rushed on, giving Dean no chance to speak. "How about I hike out of here and get some help, Dean?"

Dean spluttered into the sweet concoction.

"No, dammit! Just not gonna happen, Sammy. Ma knee's just fine now. Just needed a little rest is all. You're not going wandering off on your own in a whiteout, especially not with 'Floaty the hiker boy' still on the prowl. It's just not happening, dude!"

"There's no way you can walk on that leg especially seeing that you tore a 2 inch gash in your thigh and somehow broke two toes last night."

"I did?"

Dean pushed the space blanket down and inspected his left leg. Tentatively, he flexed his knee in an attempt to reassure his brother that it really was okay, only to have the resurgence of last night's grating sensation assail him. Added to that, the jagged gash re-opened its bloody mouth and warm, wet blood oozed onto his pale thigh, the blood vessels no longer constricted by the ice cold water. He dug his nails into his palm to keep from crying out.

"See, right as rain!" He rasped, ironically.

Sam looked on in amazement, and reached forward to pull the blanket from Dean's feet.

"Okay, Captain Courageous! What do you make of those beauties? Let's see if you're still 'right as rain' when you've got your boots back on?"

Dean's face paled as he looked at the gory mess at the end of his right foot and a wave of nausea threatened to engulf him. He looked sheepishly at his brother and whispered.

"Okay, so I may need a Band-Aid if you've got one, Sam."

Sam snorted in disbelief.

"Dean, you're hopeless! I could make it back to the Impala much quicker without you and get some help."

"And what the hell happens if you fall and break your leg. First rule of survival, Sammy, is we stick together. I'll be fine once I get going."

Sam gave up, knowing his argument was already lost, knew it before he'd even started.

"Well at least let me strap your knee back up for you. I can't sort out that cut here but I'll wrap it tight to stop the bleeding, and we'll worry about sutures later. There's nothing to do for broken toes anyway."

Sam turned his back and shuffled around the tree trunk to retrieve the dried bandage as Dean sank back into his cradle of still warm spruce, relieved that he had persuaded his brother to his point of view.

"Anyway, bro. You'll be pleased to know your Christmas save theory is still intact!" Sam announced, smiling as he reached for Dean's wounded leg.

"It is?" Dean looked suspiciously at his smug brother.

"Yeah, if we'd been out in this last night, there's no way we could have survived. So, dude, last night we were 'saved' by a freakin' huge Christmas Tree!"

Ends


	8. Chapter 8 Save SevenIcicles!

Thanks to readers who have suggested inclusions that they would like to see in the 12 Saves. Future chapters will have, as requested, lower back pain and a hand injury, Dean throwing up (ewh!) and also giggling (awh!) and some Chrsitmas fruitcake! Thanks to all those reviewing for your encouragement. Bird and Janger xx

The 12 Saves of Christmas

Save Seven – Icicles

December 23rd 10.00am

They had been walking for nearly two hours now but had only made it about a mile along the frozen track. The going would have been tough if they were in peak form but the last 24 hours had taken its toll on both the Winchesters. Dean was fairing worse and Sam glanced across at his brother through the swirling snow and knew instantly that he was tiring quickly. His sore foot just adding to his earlier injury toll. There was simply no way Dean was gonna be able to make it the further 5 or 6 miles back to the safe haven of the Impala.

Not that Dean would admit it, of course. Well, not unless he was a bit concussed like he was last night. However, the rest under their 'saviour' spruce had done them both good. Enough so that Sam had been convinced, against his better judgement, to abandon their temporary shelter and set off walking for the Impala, despite the blizzard.

Sam had been nervous; knowing that Dean's knee probably was in bad shape and that his concussion was only rested rather than resolved. He had really wanted his brother to sit tight and wait in the relative comfort of their arboreal hidey-hole whilst he hiked out and found some help, but Dean would have none of it.

"No, not gonna happen. Ma knee's just fine now, Sammy. Just needed a little rest is all. You're not going wandering off on your own in a whiteout, especially not with 'Floaty the hiker boy' still on the prowl. It's just not happening, dude!"

Dean had then flexed his knee to show Sam that the few hours of sleep they had managed had miraculously cured his injuries. It was a convincing demonstration which he knew would reassure Sam, and if it were not for the sensation of a myriad glass shards in his knee capsule and the sudden unexpected flow of warm blood from the gash to his thigh, he, too, would have been convinced. However, he was practised enough at hiding pain that his smile was unbroken, even as his knee throbbed steadily.

That effectively ended any argument Sam had and so it was that they had put out the remains of their fire, packed their meagre remaining provisions and set of out into the near white-out to walk to the welcome familiarity of the Impala.

wWw

"Sam?"

Dean didn't look at his brother as he mouthed the question in a puff of breath that disappeared into the swirling snow. His eyes remained resolutely on the few inches of ground that he could see before him, and that he dare not look up from for fear of falling.

His knee was sore beyond words, each step grinding with a musical crepitus that set his teeth on edge but at least the pressure bandage to his thigh was still stemming the flow of blood. Add to that, his broken toes throbbed like a toothache and he was generally unhappy on his exhausted legs.

Sam looked to his left at Dean's snow bedecked form and swatted at the coating of white that clung to his own long bangs.

"What is it, Dean?"

"Do you remember the black dog that nearly had me for dinner that time in Minnesota?"

Sam smiled and shook his head, sending little avalanches of cold, wet white stuff down the upturned collar of his inadequate jacket, shivering as he replied.

"Random, Dean!"

Icy green eyes briefly met warmer hazel ones before plunging back to the track as they plodded on.

"Yeah, I know, but do ya?"

Sam nodded.

"Yeah... yeah, I do. Well, I remember Dad telling me about it after he virtually carried you back to the car where you'd left me."

Sam looked in mock irritation at his stumbling sibling and Dean smiled tiredly.

"Was for your own safety, bro. You were too little then to be much help."

Sam conceded the point and pressed on.

"It was a big, vicious sonofabitch, I remember Dad saying, and it damn near turned you into puppy chow. What made you mention it now?"

Dean stopped and leaned heavily on the rough hewn crutch Sam had fashioned for him. His breath, though he tried to disguise it, came in gasps and even though it was mighty cold, Sam could see the sweat running from his bruised temple.

"You know that sorta...well...howling we been hearing all over the place?"

Sam nodded, his eyes involuntarily scanning the surrounding foliage as he waited for Dean to have enough breath to continue.

"Well, I know it's not, but that howling kinda puts me in mind of that black dog."

"I wondered if it was just me hearing it."

Sam's earnest gaze held his brother's, as Dean shook his head detaching the little plumes of ice crystals from his long lashes.

"Nope. Me too. Heard it a few times now. First when ya pulled me outta the holly and we were starting back up the butte."

Sam nodded and added.

"After the damned robin pecked me half to death..."

He touched the little wounds on his forehead.

"Yup! And again just before we found the big spruce to shelter under."

Dean finished, looking up at Sam's serious face.

"I wasn't sure you'd heard it, too. You were pretty out of it last night, Dean."

"I know but I heard it."

The elder Winchester raised his chin to the near impossible to discern pathway as he spoke, indicating that they should keep moving. Sam reluctantly took the lead, walking at a pace far slower than he normally would and knowing that even that was currently way too fast for Dean.

They walked on for a few minutes in silence, each lost in their own thoughts before Sam spoke again.

"So, you think it's a black dog?"

"No...no, I don't think it is. I was just saying it put me in mind of the sounds the dog made."

As he replied, the crutch slipped a little on the icy ground and Dean's knee twisted as he struggled for balance. He hiccupped in pain and Sam made a grab for his shoulder to prevent him slipping further.

"God damn..."

Dean leaned his head briefly against Sam's shoulder, waiting for the bright sparks of agony that danced on the inside of his closed eyes to fade.

"You never really did tell me about the black dog."

Sam hoped the reminiscence would distract his suffering brother from his pain, and Dean knew exactly what he was doing but played along. He pushed himself upright and they lurched forward again, shoulder to shoulder through the driving snow.

"Well. You remember that Dad had been after the dog for weeks? It had taken 4 victims before we arrived and had another two whilst he was trying to hunt it down. That last one tore Dad up real bad. The kid was just about your age and, damn, if we were only yards from the emergency room when the poor kid died."

Sam watched Dean's throat work against the lump in it and remembered how the pair of them had come back in from the Impala, covered in blood and stunned into silence. Sam knew something bad had happened but also knew enough not to ask questions. His Dad had busied himself making dinner; his demeanour too upbeat to be believable, and Dean had disappeared into the shower to emerge a long while later, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. Again, Sam had held his tongue, even when Dean said he wasn't hungry and had gone to sit quietly on the old sofa as he'd dutifully joined his Dad at the table.

Sam remembered he had lasted about 3 minutes before slipping softly from the table and padding over to the sofa. He'd wormed his way in against Dean's side, lifting his brother's lifeless arm and snuggling it around him. And there he'd sat as Dean had laid his head against the top of Sam's. He couldn't remember any words being said, but he knew that Dean's hot tears had trickled through his long hair as his strong arms had finally wrapped around Sam and held him desperately close.

Sam shook himself from his reverie as he realised that Dean was speaking again.

"So, we went back out, shotguns primed with consecrated iron rounds. You came along 'cause neither of us wanted to leave you on your own at the motel but you really were too little to manage the snow."

Dean looked at his positively ginormous baby brother and smirked.

"Too little. Go figure!"

Sam smiled down in return.

"We stalked the damn thing for hours. It was freezing..."

The plumes of breath from Dean's mouth emphasised his words.

"Snow was maybe even worse than this and we kept hearing the damn thing howl but we just couldn't find it!"

Sam noted that Dean was getting slower and slower in his pace as he talked and every sentence was interspersed with either a hastily pulled in breath or a gasp of pain. He knew Dean was gonna have to rest soon but, as yet, he had seen nothing to really offer them much shelter from the blizzarding snow.

"And it wasn't just a howl, Sammy. Not like a normal dog does, or even a wolf."

He paused, searching deeply for the right words.

"There was something...unworldly about that noise, Sam. It was eerie. Like the howling we heard last night, you knew something 'not of this world' was speaking."

Dean swayed to a stop and looked into his brother's eyes, seeking to see if Sam understood what he was trying to say.

"Yeah, I remember the noise the black dog made that night. I locked all the doors and hunkered down on the back seat under those old blankets and prayed for you and Dad to come back in one piece. I knew it was something born of evil and it scared the crap outta me."

Dean blinked slowly and something akin to relief played across his face. Sam honoured the silence, letting his brother remember that night. It wasn't often that Dean shared his past experiences with Sam and he found himself wanting to hear about this event that had shaped Dean's life.

"Anyway, finally the dog found us. Knocked dad down and out for the count and then stalked me back up against the rock wall of the valley we were in. I lost my sawn-off and my best silver knife in the scuffle, though I did slice its hind paw before it ripped it outta my hands."

Dean smiled at his minor triumph, blinking as the snowflakes blew into his wide, green eyes. Sam angled his body round, subtly trying to shield his brother from the worst of the weather as he continued.

"What happened next, Dean?"

The elder Winchester closed his eyes briefly, accessing the memories.

"I remember it had me down on my back in the snow and it had bitten me up real good."

Dean winced unconsciously, his hand gliding down his denim clad thigh to his stiff and swollen knee.

"I'd tried to crawl under a bit of a rim of overhanging rocks but really it wasn't a big enough space and the black dog had me by the arm, dragging me out. I was screaming for dad, and kicking and punching at it as best I could but it just kept snarling and slavering as it tugged me further out into the open. It let go my sleeve and I remember lying there, holding my arm as it dripped blood onto the churned up snow and staring into eyes so dark..."

Dean's voice trailed off, his words lost to the terrifying memories and Sam waited quietly, shivering with both cold and the return of the terror he had felt as that child in the Impala, hearing that distant, unearthly howling. After a few moments Sam prompted softly.

"And?"

Dean offered no response.

"Dean?"

Sam reached out and took his brother's arm gently, only to have Dean start violently, jarring his various injuries, his wide eyes briefly showing his fear to the world. Composure quickly returned though and he hiccupped the pain softly into place as he returned back to the present.

"Sorry."

Sam squeezed his arm.

"'S'okay."

Dean steadied himself, recovering his brittle air of control.

"So, there I am on my back, black dog stood over me, its foul breath in my face, teeth inches from my throat and I hear dad's voice shouting my name and he's up running toward me, my sawn off in his hands.

"'Dean! Curl up!' he yelled."

Sam raised his eyebrows quizzically and Dean rushed on.

"'Curl up in a ball son!' and I did. And he raised the shotgun high above the black dog and blasted the icicle covered rock wall above me. The icicles were huge and they scythed down stabbing through the body of the black dog and pinning it to the ground. It howled like a sonofabitch, Sammy..."

Sam nodded, remembering that sound even as he shivered under his covers on the back seat of the Impala.

"And then dad was pulling me out from under it and he blasted it with the iron rounds. It took three or four rounds to finally kill it but I guess the icicles ensured it stayed put long enough for him to finish it off."

Sam could hear the relief in Dean's words even now many years after the events of that snowy night, and as he watched he could see Dean's body shaking at the memories.

"After that I remember dad wrapping me up in his jacket, got blood all over it, while he torched the dog's body and then him carrying me back to the car."

Sam sucked in his breath before he picked up the thread.

"Yeah, I can see him now, emerging from the snowstorm, you clutched to his chest and blood spattering the snow as I fumbled the door open. I was so scared you were dead. Dad said, 'No, Kiddo, he's just a bit bitten up', settled you in my lap and drove like a maniac through the snow to the emergency room."

Dean smiled.

"Sorry I scared you, Sammy."

His voice was hoarse and Sam shook his head.

"Its fine, Dean. All the way there dad kept saying 'Don't worry Sammy, the icicles saved him'. I never understood it till now."

"Weird huh?"

Dean grinned.

"Yeah, yeah it is."

"Hey!"

Dean teetered precariously on his wobbly legs as a note of excited energy flared briefly in his voice.

"I'll be damned! That was another bizarre 'Christmas Save'!"

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"Saved by Icicles?"

Dean snickered.

"Yeah, Sam. Hey, it could have been worse; it could have been Frosty the freakin' snowman!"

Ends

Reviews welcome!


	9. Chapter 9 The Little Donkey

**The 12 Saves of Christmas**

Save 8 The Little Donkey

December 23rd 11.45am

They had resumed their slow trudge through the thickening snow, each a little lost in their thoughts of Christmases' past. Their pace was slow and as the snow began to tumble again from the pregnant clouds, they became quickly dusted with a frosting of icing sugar whiteness.

The snowball came out of nowhere, breaking Dean's thoughtful reverie to hit him squarely on the side of his head. It puffed in a mini detonation before disintegrating into cold tickles of ice that slithered under the collar of his T-shirt to continue their troublesome journey down his taut abdomen before dipping below the waistband of his jeans. The sudden cold made him gasp like a girl.

"Hey, no fair! Disabled here, remember?"

Dean snarked as he wobbled to a stop, scowling at Sam who was a few feet ahead of him doubled over with the mirth of his direct hit.

"Hey Dean. Who's Frosty the snowman now. Har-de-har!"

Sam laughed as he looked back at Dean, smiling at the look of mock outrage from his big brother. He strode back and rolled his eyes theatrically as he swept off the thick layer of powdery snow that diademed Dean's head, marvelling that his trade mark, dark blond spikes remained intact. So much for Dean's constant entreaties that hair gel was unknown to him!

"Leave it out, Sam!"

Dean squirmed out from under his brother's huge hands.

"Don't mess with the hair! Will you never learn? Ladies love the hair."

Snorting ensued as the younger Winchester surveyed the silent, abandoned landscape.

"And you're seeing lots of ladies out here are ya, bro?"

"Well, it always pays to be prepared, Sammy."

Dean retorted smugly, knocking Sam's hand away as he made another grab for his hair. The movement shifted his weight onto his unprepared, injured knee and torn thigh and they protested vigorously, reminding him that someone had replaced the usual joint surfaces with blazing hot coals. He tried to contain the agonised groan but it slipped from his slightly blued lips, stripping the grin instantly from his face. He rocked back quickly onto his other foot trying to decompress the explosion of pain in the swollen limb, only to find that suddenly loading his broken toes was equally as uncomfortable. His similarly sore foot failed to find anything more of a stable base and Sam watched in horror as, cart-wheeling his arms looking for the balance that eluded him, Dean fell gracelessly, yet again, onto his ass in the deep snow.

"Crap!"

Dean gasped with feeling as his hands encircled the patently incompetent knee and he rocked gently back and forwards as Sam knelt beside him, the easy smile of moments earlier replaced with sudden, serious concern as he rubbed at Dean's back trying to ease some of the all too apparent pain.

wWw

The spirit of the Christmas Hiker looked on as the elder Winchester recounted his memories. He watched the brothers' impromptu snow-ball bonding session with sympathy but mounting impatience. He needed them to be on their way and he found their lack of progress was eating away at him. He had waited so long and his tolerance was just about at an end.

Still, he could see that trying to terrorise them into increasing their pace was going to have no real effect, beaten up as they were, so a change of approach was called for.

The ghost gathered his loose ethereal tendrils and drifted away swiftly and silently, a plan forming in his moribund mind.

wWw

"S...Stop...gotta ...stop!"

Dean gasped and rolled his head breathlessly so he could look up, through the driving snow, into Sam's worried face. The older man literally hung in his brother's embrace, utterly dependent on his tenuous hold on Sam's shoulder and the supporting arm around his waist. His knee had finally given out entirely about another half a mile down the path and their progress was now dependant entirely on how fast Sam could essentially drag Dean through the deeply drifting snow.

"Lemme...down, S...Sammy."

Dean's words came out with little pants of fogging breath and Sam nodded, gently lowering him to the ground so he lay on his back in the snow. He knelt beside his stricken sibling and allowed his own breathing to slowly steady. After a minute or so Dean found the puff to speak again.

"Sam, you gotta leave me here and go find help."

He had managed to prop himself up on one elbow and was looking with earnest eyes at Sam's worried face.

"Like hell, Dean!"

Sam barked out in a disbelieving laugh.

"You seriously think I'm gonna leave you here in this blizzard and hike off into the distance whistling 'Let It Snow'?"

Sam's face was flushed with both exertion and irritation at Dean's inability to put his own needs first. Most of all though, his colour came from his fear, fear because he really didn't know how he was gonna get them out of the situation he had walked them into by agreeing to leave the safety of the tree.

"You were all for leaving on your own when we were under the tree!"

Dean's pale face was all righteous indignation and Sam couldn't help but smile at the petulance of the pout. Suddenly, the situation seemed funny and Sam had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop him from laughing out loud.

"Well let's just examine that statement shall we, Dean?"

Dean humpfed and went to speak, but was halted when Sam held up a silencing hand.

"So, I think the key phrase we should concentrate on was 'when we were safe under the tree'. See, the tree had 'saved' us, Dean. It's a definite theme going on here. Can't you see it? The spirit of Christmas is on our side and determined to..."

Sam paused as Dean sat abruptly up in the drift, his green eyes blazing, to poke his finger firmly into Sam's chest.

"I didn't say 'safe under the tree', smart-ass. I said 'under the tree'. And how ridiculous can you possibly get? 'Saved by Christmas'! You are losing your mind, Sammy."

Sam sat back on his heels to escape the accusatory digit and continued on with his irritating line of questioning.

"So, the tree didn't save us? And Cupid didn't appear to float me outta the river? And a robin red-breast didn't save us from the bear trap? And..?"

"Enough, for heaven's sake!"

Dean yelled and Sam deployed his ultimate argument winning weapon.

"So, you're saying we weren't safe under the tree?

Sam made sure his eyes brimmed just enough with tears at his next line.

"I tried real hard to make it comfortable under that tree, Dean."

Dean had lost and he knew it. The moment Sam's eyes had sparkled with tears had always heralded the downfall of his resolve to press his point and now, even though Sam had carried him the last half mile, it was no different. 'Big brother Dean' emerged with a vengeance.

"No, Sam, I didn't say it wasn't comfortable. You did a great job with the tree, and the fire and everything."

Sam stepped the lip quivering down to a five on the Richter scale.

"And breakfast..?"

Dean nodded urgently and patted Sam's arm.

"Yeah, Sammy. Breakfast was cool too. You did a great job."

Dean smiled, reassured that he had fended off Sam's sulk and Sam went in for the kill.

"So, no more talk of leaving you here in the snow and going off into the sunset. Okay, Dean? Deal?"

The older brother's face creased into a frown. _How the hell had he stampeded into a fast shuffle? Goddamn, Sam was good!_

"Now, wait up there, Sasquatch..."

Dean shuffled forward on his bum a little, tugging the front of Sam's jacket for emphasis.

"All I was saying was, I really can't keep up...

Dean gestured to his swollen leg and throbbing toes.

"And I'm holding you back, so if you were to..."

"Stop it, Dean!"

Sam dragged his jacket from his brother's frozen fingers and pushed him none too gently back into the 'snow pillow' behind him as he rose to his full height to tower over Dean.

Sam's good natured cajoling had disappeared, replaced by a heartfelt anger born of his lingering fear. The impact with the snow found and re-awakened the myriad small wounds on Dean's back and he sucked in the frigid air as the pain flared.

"Why do you always do this?"

Sam asked, his cheeks flushed and he stood, hands on hips, over Dean as he spoke so that the recumbent man was forced to lean back submissively to be able to see his face.

"Sam..."

Dean tried to speak but his brother was in no mood to hear it.

"Shut up for a god-damned minute, Dean! I'm talking and you need to hear this."

Dean thought of a dozen wise-ass remarks. A dozen reasons to save himself from what Sammy was going to say. And then he looked into Sam's frightened face and knew he had to shut up, suck it up and hear his brother out. He owed him that.

"Okay. I'm listening. Shoot, Sammy."

Dean's voice was soft and scared and Sam's anger dissipated with the swirling snow. Scared was something Dean never allowed to colour his words. But there it was, so softly said, but somehow so loud that it quieted the wind storm around them and hummed as the only sound in Sam's ears.

It was like the younger man was a marionette and someone had suddenly scythed his strings. He folded, all long arms and legs, till he sat in the snow beside Dean.

"It's just..."

He started to say but stopped as he looked into his brother's deep green eyes. The same eyes he had seen for all his life but for a moment, in the gleam of the snow, there was Dean's mortal soul on display for him to see.

It took the words from Sam's lips with the intensity of feeling he saw there. Those eyes resonated with loss and grief and terror. They were darkened with the knowledge of too many horrors seen and wearied by responsibility beyond their years. They longed for their Mom; the Mom that Dean could actually remember as a person not just a concept. They yearned for something beyond this, beyond hunting with its death and destruction. Yet they didn't think they deserved it.

The sadness overwhelmed Sam and he shifted to lower his gaze, but Dean caught his chin and forced him to hold the moment, and Sam saw the rest. He saw beneath the loss, and fear and grief and there was love. For their Mom and Dad and the countless people they had helped by hunting the creatures of darkness that were their daily companions. But, most of all, he saw Dean's unconditional love for him. Throughout everything this man had been forced to witness, endure, bear, there was love.

It humbled and amazed Sam and he found himself speechless in the snow as the tears froze on his cheeks.

"Come on, bro. That ridiculous hair of yours'll freeze to your head if we don't get going."

Dean smiled as he spoke and held his cold-numbed hands out to Sam, indicating he needed assistance to get back to his less than fully-functional feet. Sam wiped his nose on his sleeve and got to his own feet, as gently as possible pulling Dean with him. The brothers resumed their conjoined posture and, amidst a flurry of grunts of pain and exertion, they continued down the snow covered path towards the Impala.

wWw

The ghost of the Christmas Hiker found his quarry and released his most malevolent shriek to terrorise the creature to his bidding. The howl resonated through the forest and the beast reared and fled in terror in the direction of the unsuspecting Winchesters, as the tattered phantom smiled its deaths-head grimace into the wind.

wWw

"What the crap was that?"

Dean was suddenly alert, his aching body flooding with 'fight or flight' adrenaline as the unearthly sound reverberated through the idyllic snow covered scene that surrounded them. He stood away from Sam, throwing down his crutch and groaning as he placed full weight on his damaged leg and toes. The sudden pressure stimulated Dean's circulation and blood seeped from the sodden bandage to stain the leg of his jeans.

"Jeeze, Dean why didn't you tell me you were bleeding through the bandage?"

Sam's eyes flickered to the growing stain on the tattered denim that wrapped Dean's tense thigh.

"There's no time for that now, Sammy. Get the guns out."

The elder Winchester tugged at the shabby pack on his brother's back as he spoke and the look of urgency on Dean's face, and the memory of the inhuman scream resounding in his ears, gave Sam's frozen hands the necessary speed.

"Hurry, Sam. It's coming!"

Sam grabbed one of the sawn-off's and pumped it as he handed it to his brother. He snatched the second and moved to stand, shoulder to shoulder with Dean, as they faced the sound of their approaching assailant.

The thundering noise got louder and louder, and the trees on its approach route shuddered and divested themselves of snow as the beast careened closer and closer to the ill-prepared hunters.

"What do you think it is, Dean?"

Sam whispered.

"Oh, well let's see? Could it be a velociraptor, Sam?"

Dean glanced incredulously at his brother, tension making his words unnecessarily harsh.

"How the fuck do I know?"

Sam looked hurt.

"I was only asking..."

"And why are you whispering?"

Dean demanded irritably, as before them the crashing and demonic wailing increased.

"Don't want to give away our position..."

Sam reasoned in embarrassment, his cheeks red as a Christmas elf's.

"I think it's got our position, Sammy. Brace for impact, here it comes!"

Dean glanced again as the ravening beast broke through the cover of the trees and skidded to a halt before them as they aimed the shotguns at its hideous form.

wWw

The little grey donkey trembled in terror as it observed the bristling hunters before it; and turned tail to try and flee back into the woods from whence it came. However, the ghost of the Christmas Hiker had distinct plans for the sure footed quadruped and he howled a reminder of his intended destination for the quaking beast of burden.

It ee-ored pathetically, its dilemma solved as it decided that the men before it were at least of this earth and it staggered, stiff legged with fear, towards the hunters as they lowered their shotguns.

"Velociraptor, huh?"

Sam raised an eyebrow at his grinning brother.

"Okay, so not a velociraptor...maybe a T-Rex, you think?"

Dean questioned innocently.

"Ass!"

Sam snorted.

"Sam, I thought a college boy like you would be able to tell the difference. Anyone can see it's a donkey."

"I can tell the difference, Dean."

Sam deadpanned.

"I was referring to you, not it!"

The animal approached the brothers, braying softly in distress and Dean gently petted its long, soft ears as it nuzzled into him.

"I think it likes me, Sammy."

He smiled as the little creature butted against him, seeking comfort in his warmth.

"Yeah, well no doubt it's a she, then, Dean. Didn't you just say you were irresistible to females?"

Sam laughed at Dean's hurt look.

"And let's face it, she's a lot prettier than some of the dates you've had."

Dean scratched behind the donkey's ears, making soothing chucking noises deep in his throat.

"She is real purdy..."

He mused, as he ran his strong hands over her withers. The donkey pushed against him relishing the attention after her scare and Dean found his wobbly legs unable to find a stable base. He leaned forward over her back to stop himself falling flat on his face, and before he knew what was happening Sam had legged him up and he found himself astride the beast as she brayed her surprise.

"Oh, no way, Sammy!"

Dean moved to try and dismount the patient donkey but his endeavour was blocked, both by Sam's restraining hand and the tremendous pain in his leg as he flexed his knee. The sensation of warmth and wetness from the fresh blood spread further down his leg.

"What's the problem, Dean?"

Sam asked innocently, as his brother wriggled on the donkey's surprisingly warm back.

"Sam, no, this is just too freaky for words."

Sam was busy tying a short length of rope that he had retrieved from the bottom of his pack around the donkey's neck to act as a halter.

"Why? What's freaky?"

Sam finished the task and turned to look at his mounted sibling as he continued.

"You need a ride, 'cause let's face it, what with your ruined knee and broken toes you're not going anywhere in a hurry."

Dean nodded his head in acquiescence on that point but still squirmed in marked discomfort.

"And then this wild Bethlehem donkey wanders conveniently out of the woods..."

To his credit Sam's lip didn't even quiver as he said the line, Dean's eyebrows, however, hovered somewhere at hairline level.

"Wild Bethlehem donkey? Sam...donkey's are not indigenous to ..."

"Indigenous? Big word! Where d'you learn that, Dean?"

Sam snarked, a wry little smile curving his mouth as Dean blushed slightly.

"Told ya, Sammy. I watch Discovery channel!"

"Humm, yeah!"

Sam tutted as he continued.

"Anyway so you need a ride and we get one. Rack it up as another much appreciated Christmas save in my opinion."

Dean still wriggled, his face a picture of distress.

"What now?"

Sam demanded and Dean puffed out a breath before he blurted out.

"But Sammy... It was okay before, it was just, like Christmassy icons, nothing, well, religious…"

Sam acted dumb, forcing Dean to say the actual words.

"Weary traveller riding on a donkey, into Bethlehem...it's all getting a bit too bit biblical for my taste."

Dean couldn't disguise his distress as he spoke.

"Dean."

Sam made sure he betrayed not a hint of a smile.

"So, you think that would maybe make you the Vir…?"

The rest was cut off by Dean's flustered denial.

"No, no, Sam. That's not what I meant at all. I just meant, it's maybe kinda getting beyond a joke now! Before, with the holly, the robin, the Christmas tree, all that stuff was just winter stuff. This is now getting to really be Christmas."

Dean mumbled, his face red as the berries on the holly bushes dotting the snowy scene they sat in.

"Well, maybe that's okay too, Dean. All I know, dude, is that it seems like there's something out there, determined to keep our ghost-busting tails in the game. I don't know who, or what, or even why, but I ain't going to knock it, just 'cause it's starting to turn a little too biblical for your liking. Anyway, the similarity stops there, 'cause knowing what I know about your dirty mind, I have to say there is just no way I could see you as a virgin."

Sam's mouth quirked into a smile at his brother's indignation.

"So, shut you pie-hole and settle your butt 'cause this fine ass is gonna save both of ours!

ends


	10. Chapter 10 A Stable Somewhere Outside Be

The Twelve Saves of Christmas Save 9 A Stable Somewhere Outside Bethlehem

December 23rd 3.30pm

Despite the feeling of being impaled upon the bony ridge he now found himself perched perilously atop, (and the general feeling of embarrassment at finding himself – courtesy of Sam - astride a little, grey donkey, albeit with very pretty eyes,) Dean had to admit, if only to himself, that at least they were now able to make better headway. Or, more accurately, any headway at all, as his knee/toe combination had effectively finished him off as a bipedal entity for the time being.

The pleasant warmth that emanated up from the erratically rocking platform was also very welcome.

He sat, self-consciously, astride the now happily plodding beast, who appeared to be totally at ease with the 6ft 1in, well-muscled hunter straddling her narrow back. He gripped tightly, even though the blisters on his hands from clinging to his rough-hewn crutch were raw, to a double handful of the spiky, black mane. Gradually he found his body relaxing as he adapted to the jerky, bouncing motion.

Clenching the muscles in his now throbbing nether regions, he again shifted his weight, trying to minimize the damage from the knobbly backbone. His long legs, dangling on either side, just skimmed the surface of the white-blanketed forest floor. But compared to the agony of staggering alongside his gargantuan, shaggy haired sibling, this was a 'walk in the park'. Or more precisely, he thought shaking his weary head, 'a donkey ride in the forest.'

'_Ah, hell! Now I'm doing it. As if it's not enough with Sasquatch and his sucky-ass jokes!'_

Raptor, as he had unofficially named her, had calmed quickly under his strong, measured strokes, her trembling flanks gradually stilling under his tender caress, relaxing as he'd crooned comfortingly in her long, fluffy ear. An effect that had not gone unnoticed by his long-striding brother as he kept pace beside them.

"Sam?" He growled quietly, breaking the monotony of the muffled crunch of hooves on crisp, virgin snow, "I swear, if you ever mention this again after today I'll go buy a clown suit, wig and all and make you wear the damn thing in public, so you can see what stupid feels like!"

He aimed emerald daggers in his brother's direction, as once again he caught sight of the smirk Sam now, almost continuously, wore.

"Hey, bro. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Not a word shall pass these lips. It's just, we couldn't afford to look a gift horse, or – in this case a gift donkey - in the mouth." He sniggered gleefully.

Dean gave an entirely 'I'm seriously not amused with this crap anymore' huff and tried again.

"Do you think at some stage this evening, we might reach a point where you run out of your tired one-liners? It's getting real old, real fast, dude."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm being an ass!"

Sam attempted to look contrite, briefly, before losing the battle, as a huge grin burst across his travel-worn features.

Reaching up, Dean swiped the snow from a low-hanging branch and aimed it with deadly accuracy at his wisecracking brother's head. Even as he congratulated himself on the direct hit, he noticed, with concern, the increasing limp as Sam tramped onwards through the ankle deep snow.

"Well, you never know, Sam. Maybe Raptor's got an ugly, big sister tucked away somewhere for you! I could put in a good word. See if I can get you fixed up, huh, college boy?"

"No, Dean. It's okay, but if I feel the need to 'burro' your girlfriend, I'll let you know!"

"Enough, already! Please, Sammy. Let's just give it a rest, okay?"

"Well, there's no need to be mulish about it, Dean. You don't have to act like a complete Jackass."

"Dude. Stop!" He pleaded, "Seriously though, Sammy, when she ran into us, she was totally freaked, man. I been wondering, what the hell terrified her, maybe there's mountain lion or bear around. Something sure as hell set her off."

Sam simply raised his eyebrows in agreement and peered into the thickening gloom as he double-checked the safety catch on his handgun. But still be couldn't resist one parting shot.

"Don't worry, Tex, whatever happens, I'm ready to kick some ass!"

They travelled onwards into the fast falling darkness, senses alert for any predators, but the only signs of movement were the increasingly heavy flurries that whirled around their heads, falling more heavily as the thick tree cover receded.

wWw

The Christmas Hiker watched from the cover of the trees, a cadaverous grin on his face at the brother's exchanges. The little beast was proving a boon and he was relieved to see that they were now, once again, making progress towards his desired destination for them. They would soon be in a position to fulfil his plans and he prayed he would finally have his way. He smiled his deaths head smile and drifted ethereally behind them on the wind.

wWw

"How ya doin', Sam? You wanna stop, have a rest, maybe something to eat?"

"Nah, let's just keep going, at least its warmer when we're moving. Besides, it looks like there's another snowstorm on the way." Sam cast a wary eye back at the glowering sky. "We're making good time now, it's probably only 3 or 4 miles back to the car. Only problem is, bro, I don't think your new friend'll fit in the back seat. It may be the end of a beautiful relationship!"

"Bite me, Sammy!"

Dean retorted good-naturedly, and Sam let loose a 'Muttley-esque' chuckle as he hunched down ever deeper into his inadequate jacket, hands digging deep into pockets, searching for warmth. He shivered as the biting wind grew to new proportions, howling around the three slow moving figures as they struggled through the burgeoning snowstorm.

wWw

The little grey burro had slowed to a walk, picking her way carefully through the hock-deep snow that blanketed the valley floor. Despite the lack of visibility, her sense of direction leading them steadily forwards.

Dean sat hunched into the wind, gradually leaning further over the gently swaying neck as the cold and exhaustion took their toll on his already abused frame. Lulled into a fitful sleep by the slow, rocking motion he sagged forwards, the right hand side of his face snuggling into Raptor's thick winter coat as sleep finally claimed him.

Struggling now to keep pace, Sam kept watch on the suddenly silent form at his side. He lunged across just in time to catch the back of Dean's jacket as he saw the sideways slide.

"Dean! Whoa, wake up, man!"

The sudden yank on his collar, and the accompanying burst of agony that rocketed through him as his sibling's quick action pinned his knee to the donkey's side, brought a strangled yelp of surprise and pain.

"Aaahhh! Goddammit!"

He tailed off, face screwed up in anguish.

Sam struggled to keep his brother straddling the skittering donkey as she sidestepped nervously, anxious at the unfamiliar noise and action.

"Whoa! Whoa! Steady there, girl."

Sam soothed, supporting Dean with his right hand and patting the trembling withers with his left.

Dean looked about blearily, clutching at his knee as his now rested nerve endings awoke with a violent intensity. With Sam's help he hitched himself back aboard, regained his balance and clutched tightly to the stubby mane before him.

"Sorry, bro. You were about to take a nose-dive into the white stuff."

Sam raised his voice over the scream of the wind, talking close to his brother's ear.

"S'kay, Sammy. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. Where are we now?"

"Well, it's difficult to tell, but I think once we reach the other side of this valley, we should find the last path down through the trees to the car. It should only be a couple of miles from here."

Dean held up a hand, attempting to shield his eyes from the buffeting wind.

"Dude, I can't see jackshit! You sure we're goin' the right way?"

"S'far as I can tell, we're good."

Sam tried to impart more confidence than he felt in the middle of the open meadow, their view obscured by swirling snow and his eyes closing in fatigue. He knew he had drifted off several times as they had trudged through the evening and on into the night, the bitter cold forcing his mind to take shelter from its harsh brutality. He knew they should have reached the shelter of the woods by now, but with visibility down to a few feet; his sense of direction had become confused.

With alarm he realised that at some point, he had taken to following the little grey beast that walked so confidently beside him, rather than taking the lead himself. Guiltily, he stared into the swirling storm that surrounded them, admitting to himself that his lack of attention would probably mean another night out in the wilderness. They could be less than half a mile from the safety of the car, but in this, there was just no way of knowing.

"Sam?"

It was the low growl that Dean only used when he absolutely demanded the truth. The one Sam, even now, found near impossible to resist.

"Ah, look, Dean. As far as I know we're still going the right way. But, dude, truthfully, I just don't know for sure. I'm sorry!"

"Look, Sammy. Let's just get into the shelter of the trees; you've been walking for hours, man. I'm sorry, we should've stopped sooner. We'll worry about where we are then. Come on!"

He shouted into the storm, his words snatched away by the stinging gusts.

Again the little donkey took the lead, it had waited milling nervously, and unnerved by the presence of the spirit it felt lurking just beyond its range of vision. She felt the rider urging her onwards, so she turned, and headed homewards.

As the path that lead to the safety of the Impala disappeared behind them, lost to the raging blizzard that assaulted them from all directions, the three silent figures trudged onwards, ever deeper into the adjoining valley. The little donkey picked its way, uncomplaining, on hooves steady even in the thick snow. Sam stumbled alongside, one hand locked on the collar of Dean's stiff leather jacket, eyelids nodding shut as the snow flurries whipped his stinging face. Now he moved as if in a trance.

wWw

The Christmas hiker watched the slow, painful progression of the ragtag parade with concern. They were turning from the path he so desperately needed them to take. The donkey was leading them towards its own choice of destination and the hunters were too out of it to redirect it.

The ghost weighed up the options. He could swoop in and chastise the labouring donkey back onto the path towards the Impala or he could let the weary trio continue to their current destination and take the rest they so desperately needed.

He was loathe to allow them to deviate from the task he had assigned them but he could see exhaustion written all over their injured bodies, and the arid remains of his once beating heart went out to them.

He hung back, letting the little beast lead them where it would, his ethereal form blending with the shadows as his sigh of frustration whispered on the wind.

wWw

It was the sudden cessation of the biting wind that had been his constant unwelcome companion, which roused him from the stumbling stupor he had fallen into. His head jolted upwards, long tendrils of frost encrusted hair whipping round to sting his startled face.

Instinctively his right hand clutched at his brother's jacket collar, the sudden movement rousing the sleeping figure.

"Hunh! Whassamattasammy?" Dean lurched upright, blinking wildly to clear his eyes of the dusting of snow that laced his dark lashes. Over-balancing, he frantically pin wheeled his arms, trying to keep his seat astride the donkey. The startled beast shied away and the erratic combination pitched Dean, head over heels off the shaggy, thin back to land shoulder first into a mound of freshly deposited snow. Twisting onto his side he clenched himself into a ball, desperately trying to avoid the panicked hooves of the distressed Jenny.

The little donkey, terrified, bolted down the narrow path, hee-hawing for all she was worth.

Sam skidded to his knees, by his winded brother's side, adrenaline pumping through him. Reaching out he placed a hand on the heaving shoulder.

"Oh, god! Dean?"

"Aaaahhh! Sonofabitch!"

"Dean? Speak to me, are you alright?"

"Unhh! Goddamit! Just freakin' peachy, Sammy!" Dean managed to grit from between his trembling lips.

"Come on, let's get you up outta that snow. Can you sit up, dude?"

Sam reached out and helped ease his brother from the frozen drift, brushing the powdery snow from his hair and shoulders with one hand as he supported his leather-clad back with the other.

Dean spat out a mouthful of the freezing snow, shaking his head to remove the clumps that clung tenaciously to the side of his face. Blinking to clear his eyes, he assessed their new position.

"So, Dorothy. I guess we're not in Kansas anymore? Any of this looking familiar to you, Sam?"

"Umm, now you mention it. No, not really. I don't remember passing that fencing on the way up, do you?"

Sam pointed to where a stout, three bar fence ran alongside the path and on into the distance.

"Nope, but it might mean we're getting near some sorta civilisation, Sam. Well, at least we're outta the wind. Come on, gimme a hand up here, bro. Hell, I'd just about dried my long suffering ass off, on the long suffering ass. Haahaa, see stand up…"

He glanced, disorientated, at his position on the damp ground.

"Umm, maybe that's 'sit-down' comedy, Sammy. Yeah, sit down comedy runs in the Winchester family. Now, once again I'm freezing my buns off sitting in the goddam 'not supposed to be falling till Christmas Day' snow. Again!"

He tried to raise his arm towards the younger Winchester but the twisting motion had him grabbing instead at his lower back, face scrunched in agony as the abused muscles spasmed. His back arched suddenly, forcing him heavily backwards, into Sam's chest.

"Steady, steady there, Dean. I gotcha, bro. What's the matter? What's wrong?"

Sam held him tightly, feeling the tremors that rippled through the juddering figure beside him.

"Nothin', Sam. I'm okay." He laboured, "Just a twinge. Cramp, maybe." He panted around the groans that forced their way from between his parted lips. "Ahh, crap. Just gimme a minute here, okay?"

Struggling to control his breathing, he dug the heel of his palm deep into the protesting muscles, sighing as he felt them gradually relax. He slumped forward and then dropped his head into shaking hands, running grubby, grazed fingers through his damp hair, leaving deep channels that marked their path.

Sam felt his brother wilt beside him as the contraction passed; worriedly he looked around, his eyes following along the route taken by the panic-ridden donkey. He tipped his head to the side, listening to the sound of muted braying as it filtered its way to him along the track.

"Dude! Ssshhh! You hear that?" Sam asked quietly. "Listen, man!"

"What am I supposed to be listening to?"

"Donkey!"

"Jackass!" Dean countered, hotly.

"No, Dean. I mean listen to it. I can hear the donkey; in fact, I think I can hear two donkeys!" Sam whispered excitedly.

"Ah, your date arriving at last, dude? And why exactly are we whispering?"

"Quit fooling around, Dean. We need your noble steed! In case you hadn't noticed, you're not exactly Mr Fully Mobile at the moment. And, I seriously don't think I'm up to hauling your sorry, soaking wet ass around all night while we look for the goddam car! Maybe your ride was taking us back to her place for the night. Maybe that's why we ended up on a different path."

"Dude, I know you've had a bad couple of days. Maybe, it's the wrong time of the month. I don't know? But you don't have to cuss about my baby, she's not done anything wrong here!" Dean defended his car vigorously.

Sam shook his head in exasperation, his voice slowly rising as he confronted his obtuse brother.

"Dean, are you deliberately trying to miss the point here? We're lost! I can't see further than six foot in front of me, it's freezing, you can't walk, we got next to nothing to eat, no shelter, there's a freakin ghost on our tail and we just lost the only form of transport we had. Yes, I'm having a bad couple of days! I don't care about the goddam car, apart from wanting to get us back inside her and away from this damned mountain."

Dean bit back the snarky reply, catching the look of increasing panic that had taken up residence on his baby brother's pale, lined face. Big brother mode kicked in, full force.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Sam! I didn't mean to upset you, I was just trying to lighten the mood a little. Come on, just calm down, man. We'll be okay." He soothed. "We can't be far from the car now; we must be down in the valley at least, and I can _walk_ just fine. I just need a hand up, and that walking stick back. Seriously, dude. I've had a great rest on the donkey, I'll be able to walk, no problem! Come on, help me up, here!"

Sam turned, his huge soulful eyes locked with his brother's glassy stare, desperate to believe the lie he had just heard, searching for reassurance. Dean's haggard features melted into a crooked grin and he cuffed his sad eyed kin gently round the back of the head. The sound of agitated braying drifted to them on the wind.

"Listen, they can't be far. Come on, gimme a hand to stand. Let's go see if we can catch up with Raptor, see if she's found you a friend. Don't want you missing out on the chance of a hot date!"

Sam shuffled to get one foot under him, wrapping Dean's arm round his shoulder and gripping his belt tightly with his free hand. He felt his brother taking deep breaths, steeling himself for the pain to come.

"Ready, bro?" Sam asked quietly, he noted the nod of confirmation and, bracing himself, he rose steadily to his feet, grimacing as he brought almost the full weight of his brother up with him.

Dean's bravado only carried him so far, before Sam felt desperate fingers digging through his jacket and the muffled sound of hitching sobs that rocked through his brother's frame. He stood, silently, giving the swaying form at this side a chance to regain his composure.

Dean brought his hand up, roughly swiping at the tears that brimmed from his dark ringed eyes. Shakily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing out short puffs that ghosted into the night as he fought to control his breathing.

"Think you can stand on your own while I get your stick?" Sam asked dubiously.

Dean nodded an affirmative, whilst his fiercely clutching hand at Sam's shoulder told a totally different story.

"How's your foot feel?"

"Foot's just dandy, can't feel the freaky little mother, at all!" He panted, shakily.

"Knee?"

"Hurts like a sonofabitch, Sam. Its kinda locked up while I was sitting. I'll be fine once I get going!"

He glanced briefly into Sam's disbelieving face, and then lowered his pain-filled eyes.

"Listen, dude, why don't you just prop me up over there by the fence," he indicated a small group of rocks, "while you nip up ahead and check out the donkey situation. See if my ride's still around, huh? You're right, it does sound like a pair of them and they're not far up ahead. Leave me one of the shotguns. Just give my foot a chance to get the circulation going again."

"Come on then, let's sit you on those rocks. I'm only gonna go as far as the next bend, if I can't see anything I'm coming back to get you, okay? You ready?"

"'M fine, Sammy! Let's go!"

Sam hitched his brother's arm further over his broad shoulder, and, ignoring the grunts and groans, hauled the suffering figure towards the pile of sloping rocks. The dozen or so paces through the ankle deep snow left them both gasping for breath. Sam gratefully lowered Dean to the stone platform, settling his leg before him. He routed in the backpack and produced Dean's sawn-off, checking the rounds before handing it over to the trembling figure, sitting hunched on the cold stone.

"Dean? Dean, listen to me. I'll be two minutes. Watch my back, dude, okay?"

Sam waited till the weary head nodded in understanding. Smiling as he caught the quiet reply.

"I'll wait for you, dude. I ain't goin' nowhere, unless Santa himself swings by on his sleigh and offers me a ride!"

Dean watched as Sam checked his handgun before moving out, steadily, along the track, in the direction of the distant braying.

wWw

The Ghost watched with concern as the younger, and slightly less injured of the brother's moved away up the track. He could sense the vital connection these men had to each other and knew instinctively that they functioned best as a unit. He gathered the shabby tendrils that were his tattered form around him and rode the wind to flow towards the abandoned Winchester.

wWw

As Sam moved out of his eyeline, the elder hunter crumpled, curling up protectively around his throbbing knee, blinking to keep the black spots that danced before his eyes at bay.

'_Crap, I hope to hell he can catch that donkey, 'cause this time we are so far up the freakin' creek, I don't even know if 10 freakin' paddles would help!'_

His left hand snaked round to rub at the deep ache that had lodged at the small of his back, the constant cold doing little to help the sharp twinges that made themselves known every time his awkward gait forced him to lurch too far to the side.

'_Why couldn't I have just completed the goddamn booking confirmation when I should'a done? We'd have been tucked up safe and warm in the Holy Night Inn's best suite, complete with Jacuzz,i having a great time. Would have been a Christmas that Sam could have remembered for all the right reasons for once. Crap, I am such a freakin' screw-up!'_

Dean shivered, despite the lack of wind in the shelter of the trees the bitter cold seeped deep into his bones. He shrugged down into his jacket, turning up the collar as he hefted the shotgun with his right hand. As he peered into the shadows his hunter's instinct suddenly came to the fore, raising his hackles, as a shiver, that had no connection with the weather, ran down his spine.

wWw

The Ghost of the Christmas Hiker knew that this pain wracked man before him in the snow could sense his presence even before he left the shadows and allowed himself to be seen. He was unsurprised that he saw no real fear on the hunter's pale face, as he had the impression that this man had seen more in his relatively short lifetime than most people could ever contemplate. The dead ruin that had once been a handsome face contemplated the struggling figure before him, willing Dean to understand, to know what he must do.

wWw

Uncertainly, Dean lowered the shotgun, knowing without doubt that the ghostly form wavering between the trees had no ill intention towards him. He felt the sadness, loneliness and need that rolled in waves from the depths of the disembodied eyes.

"Dean!"

Sam's muffled voice, filtered through the trees. Dean watched as the ethereal form faded into the trees, his face turning to search out his brother in the darkness.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean shouted, shifting forwards, growling as he lowered his leg, painfully, to the ground. "Sammy, answer me!"

Injury all but forgotten, he swayed back, quickly gripping the boulder as his knee buckled beneath him. He raised the shotgun as heavy footsteps crashed along the path.

"Sammy?"

"Dean? Where are you?"

"Sammy, I'm here. You okay?"

"Yeah! Hell yeah!" Sam's laughter surprised the startled hunter. "Dean, look what I found!"

A rejuvenated Sam burst into view, Dean observed the noisy apparition lumbering down the path, dragging something behind him.

"Over here, Sam! What you so freakin' happy about?"

"Dude, this is awesome. You are so not gonna believe it!"

"Try me, Sammy! No, let me guess. You've found Santa's workshop and there's a pack of elves up there weaving a magic carpet to take us home!"

Dean snarked, hiding his grin at Sam's sudden enthusiasm.

"Ah…no!" Dean thought he detected a slight note of disappointment in his brother's tone.

"But look!" Sam approached, pulling out his torch as he turned to the object trailing behind him in the snow.

"Well, it sure ain't my donkey, dude!"

Sam's torch illuminated a small halo on the crisp white snow, gleaming yellow in the sudden torchlight. He moved it to play teasingly over the black and red sled that he pulled by two long leather straps.

"Climb aboard, dude! Your chariot awaits!" Sam chuckled.

"Okay, so what's this supposed to be, Santa's sleigh?"

"No, not quite! I'm keeping the best till last. Let me help you down there!"

Sam pulled the sled across, positioning it directly in front of Dean, all the time laughing quietly to himself.

Dean regarded him suspiciously.

"Dude, you find something to smoke on the way back from wherever you been? You're starting to worry me, here!"

Sam settled his incredulous brother onto the low back of the sled, gently straightening the wounded left leg as Dean hissed in pain through his clenched teeth. Beads of sweat forming on his forehead despite the cold.

"Hold on tight, here we go!" Sam laughed merrily.

"Okay, Bing! When you gonna start singing _Winter friggin' Wonderland_?"

Sam heaved on the straps, the sled jolted once, and then swished forward, running smoothly over the crisp layer of white.

"It's not far. Dude, this is just awesome! Here we are, stuck out in the woods, just lost our donkey, tired, hungry and in need of shelter when low and behold."

"Cut the low and behold, crap, dude! Unless, you've just morphed into the Angel Freakin' Gabriel!"

"When low and behold…" Sam paused as he turned in a wide circle, allowing Dean an uninterrupted view of the small, thatched, log building illuminated by a shaft of moonlight which broke through the roiling clouds above. The stable, 'cause that's undoubtedly what it looked like, nestled inside a small glade, the trees seemingly held back by the wooden railing that enclosed it on three sides, the fourth opening out onto what looked to be a small meadow.

The little grey donkey's head poked out of the half door and hee-hawed a bray of welcome as she recognised her erstwhile companions.

"Oh no, Sammy! Please! You gotta be kiddin' me! Tell me it's just a barn."

"Oh no, Dean. This is the real McCoy. A one hundred percent, bona fide stable in freakin' Bethlehem - stalls and manger and all! We've just been saved from exposure in the snow, by a stable, dude! A star of freakin' wonders stable!"

"Aw, hell! Just shoot me now, this is getting' beyond a joke, Sammy!"

Ends


	11. Chapter 11 A Little Rest and Recuperatio

As our two hunters take refuge for the night, it's an opportunity for them to lick their many wounds and gain a little strength for the rest of the journey ahead. We do need them to make it back to the Impala and it's time to give them a little R&R. To our Bethlehem resident reviewers. Welcome! We're not residents of your wonderful city of Bethlehem PA, but it was just too perfect as a setting for our story not to borrow it! We've had to use a bit of poetic license and shrink it down a little for the end to work. We checked it out on the net, and the Star was just too wonderful to ignore. The Twelve Saves of Christmas

A Little Rest and Recuperation

December 23rd  10.02pm

Sam's elated giggle reached through the tumbling snowflakes that fell gently, twisting and twirling in the relative calm of the sheltered clearing. He gleefully circled again, this time manoeuvring the sled so he could reverse them through the narrow gate in the fence. He reached his long arm over the top, releasing the catch and bumping it open. Dean fended off the spring-loaded panel as Sam hauled him through.

Overhead, the moon disappeared behind the fast-moving clouds and the pair were once again, plunged into darkness.

"Dean, here, hold this!"

Sam routed in his pocket, turning on the torch as he passed it down to his still seated brother.

"Point it up here, whilst I undo the bolt, can ya?"

Dean swore softly under his breath, tiredness dragging at him, his back twinging in complaint as he held the light aloft.

The bolt slid easily and the stable door eased open on its well-oiled hinges. The little donkey stamped a welcome as Sam reversed in, dragging the sled over the hard-packed earth behind him.

wWw

The Christmas Hiker smiled as he found himself relieved that the brothers had reached the temporary shelter of the stable. It would inevitably mean a delay to them fulfilling his plans but he could see their exhaustion and understood they needed to rest and recuperate if they were to be of real use to him. He let the wind take him, blowing his tattered remains towards the welcoming stable, determined to watch over them.

wWw

"Gimme the light, dude. I'll get the door shut and then I'll get you settled."

Warm breath and a soft snuffling at his right ear brought Dean's head around with a start.

"Hey, girl. I thought you'd run off and left me. Missed me, Huh?"

He reached up and scratched behind the long, tufted ear. Closing his eyes, he leant his aching head against the familiar warmth. He listened to the scrape of the metal bolt as Sam secured the lower half of the door, relaxing as he breathed in the dusty odour of long stored hay.

A gentle creak and a groan as the top half swung shut, muffling the sounds of the night as they were carried away, moaning and mournful on the wind. Dean wilted, relaxing as his perception adjusted to its new dimensions, the solid log walls forming a safe enclosure, a barrier from the harsh elements.

"Dean, look it's perfect. It's got everything, hay and a manger, your donkey. There's piles of stuff up the back here, might even be something to eat."

Sam played the bright beam over the cluttered interior, dust motes dancing crazily as the shaft of light cut through the darkness, long shadows leapt from the beams, and high rafters. Head height, wooden planking separated the stalls running along both sidewalls and low shuffles, grunts and rustles filtered through the still air.

Wearily, Dean raised his head; blinking owlishly in the unaccustomed glare from the torch beam as a huge yawn escaped him. He made no attempt to rise from the wooden base.

"Well, Sammy, it's not quite the luxury suite with Jacuzzi but, dude, I tell you, we've had a lot worse."

He hunched his shoulders, wincing as his multiple bruises protested the movement. With his free hand he hugged his jacket closer around himself and shivered.

The immediate distraction of survival, the concentration he had needed to simply keep placing one foot in front of the other or stay astride the plodding donkey, had now gone and, one by one his injuries awoke, each making itself known and demanding some long overdue attention.

Clenching his teeth he forced himself to take slow, measured breaths, holding tighter to the nuzzling donkey. He pressed his forehead into the strong neck struggling to overcome the rising panic and dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

'_Okay, try to hold it together, just a little bit longer._'

He thought, desperately.

wWw

From the shadows the ghost watched on, wishing he could ease the situation of the man before him. He remembered physical pain, though his ethereal body now felt nothing, nothing but the endless anguish of his loss. He hovered slowly, closer, murmuring soft sounds of comfort, letting the animals familiarise themselves with him as he quietly observed.

wWw

Sam advanced into the wide walkway between the stalls, torch beam investigating the heavily shadowed cubicles, his running commentary giving Dean a quick inventory as to their fellow occupants.

"Man, look! It's not just a warm, dry stable; we've got half the Nativity scene, too! There's a couple of goats in this first pen, another donkey in the next one, looks like an… Oh my god! Dean, there's a pair of freakin' reindeer back here!"

Sam's voice tailed off in amazement.

"Uh, huh." Dean acknowledged, distracted, as he sucked in deep breaths.

"Sweet holy night! You have just gotta be kiddin' me?" A delighted chuckle filled the dusty stable. "Dean, there's a… you're really not gonna believe this. I swear, there's a dirty great camel over this side! You wanna come see. Let me help you over here."

"Just gimme a minute, okay, dude?"

Dean continued forcing his reply.

"After the last couple of days, I don't see why the hell I wouldn't believe a real, live camel, in a hot damned stable on the outskirts of freakin' Bethlehem. Tell me, Sammy, you got the three wise men and a truckload of sheepherders tucked away back there, too?"

Spent, he sagged forward, forehead pressing into the comforting presence at his side.

Sam's good-natured snicker filled the air.

"Who knows? There're piles of stuff back here. So maybe!"

"Sounds… amazing, Sam."

Dean's voice wavered as, flinching, he attempted to straighten his knee."

He bit down heavily on his dried and cracked lips, stifling the groans that would otherwise have escaped him.

"You alright, bro?"

"'M fine, Sammy. What else you got back there?"

Gripping ever tighter to the stubby mane, Dean slowly arched his back, stretching as he tried to alleviate the dull pain that now seemed permanently lodged there. Grimacing, he hitched in a sharp breath at the deep-seated ache that accompanied the movement.

Sam continued his excited explorations.

"Hey, Dean! There're some storm lanterns. Hold on. Should have this alight in a minute, bro, then I'll see if there's anything here we can eat. Maybe get a fire going, get us warmed up and dried out, huh?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

Dean spoke disinterestedly, as he felt the room begin to tilt.

"Where is the damn thing?" Sam muttered patting down his pockets.

"Crap!" Dean's voice ghosted across the shelter. "Sammy?"

Dean's soft voice failed to penetrate the rustling noises as Sam searched for his lighter, the muffled cursing as the torch clattered noisily to the floor.

"Sammy, I don't feel so g…" Dean's whisper was lost in the donkey's thick coat, he felt himself slipping sideways, losing the battle with the slowly spinning room and the rising tide of darkness.

wWw

The Hiker ghost gentled the swooning hunter to the floor, desperate for him not to be further hurt, regretting his hasty actions of the previous days and the injury they had caused. He calmed the little donkey helping her to steady his fall and then drifted away quickly, back to the invisibility of the shadows, allowing the brother access to the fallen man.

wWw

The warm, comforting glow of the oil lamp flooded the rustic interior, sending out shadows, stretching to the corners. Sam turned, triumphantly, holding the lantern aloft just in time to see the unconscious form of his big brother slump sideways from the low sled, slithering down the donkey's foreleg as she backed nervously away.

"Dean!"

Sam's face fell as he rushed to the older man's aid, side stepping the snorting donkey as he skidded to his knees.

"Aw, hell, Dean! Why didn't you say something?"

He placed the lantern on the hard-packed floor and reached out, carefully rolling the comatose body and pulling him up onto his lap.

"Dean? Come on, man. Speak to me."

Gently, he patted the worn, bruised face that lay resting against his jean-clad thigh. Two days growth of dark stubble covered the slack jaw, accentuating the too pale skin beneath. A long velvety nose brushed against Sam's ear, stretching over and down to nudge at the unconscious hunter.

"Aww, come on, Dean. Wake up!"

Sam glanced frantically round the small barn, looking for someplace safe to lay his brother. The donkey nibbled at the collar of Dean's jacket. Sam, frowning distractedly, pushed back against her with his head, trying to butt the concerned donkey out of the way, however, Raptor just affectionately, pushed right back.

The soft, flickering light cast a cheery glow over the surrounding area, giant shadows looming upwards from the floor where it rested. To the right of the stable door sat a small stack of hay bales, one lay prised apart, trails of the pale, golden stems marking a path to each stall.

"Okay, Dean. I'm just gonna put you down for a minute. Don't go 'way, I'll be right back."

Sam shrugged from his jacket, shaking his arms free, he balled it up and placed it on the floor. Shuffling backwards, he cradled the unmoving form in his arms and eased him to the floor, placing the lolling head with care upon the makeshift pillow.

"Hang in there, bro. I'll be right back."

Sam ducked out from under the donkey's embrace, leaning lightly on her withers as he rose, wincing from the floor. She regarded him steadily with her soft, chocolate brown eyes.

"Hey, don't worry 'bout your boyfriend, he'll be fine. Just let me get him up off the floor."

As he crossed to the haystack, he cast a quick glance floorwards, checking that Dean wasn't awake and listening to his private conversation with the donkey. With dismay he noticed the slowly spreading blood stain that darkened the frayed denim covering the lower left thigh.

"Crap! Crap! Crap!"

Chewing his lower lip in concentration, Sam quickly pushed the split bale to the side and rearranged the stack into a low platform between the front wall and the side stalls. Hastily, he crossed the floor to his brother and knelt down beside him.

"Dean, you gonna wake up and make this easier for me, man?"

He queried, quietly. But Dean lay silent, unmoving, apart from the slight rise and fall of his chest as his soft breathe rasped quietly from his barely parted lips.

Sam heaved a deep sigh, running his cold stiffened fingers through his shaggy mane. He stood, strong hands massaging the base of his neck, as he tried to relieve some of the tension that had lodged there.

"Nah, didn't think so."

He hunkered forward and slipped his left arm under Dean's neck and down, gripping tightly to the leather jacket under his brothers left arm. Easing him up into a sitting position, he slipped his right arm beneath the slightly bowed legs. Gathering his brother in his arms, he struggled to rise as smoothly as possible to prevent any further damage to his long suffering sibling. He hitched him higher, attempting to balance the weight, and Dean's head rolled towards him, settling in the crook of Sam's neck.

"Jeez, Dean. You need to lay off the burgers, dude."

Sam huffed as he carried the muscular form the short distance over to the bed of bales.

Gently, he lay the older man down upon the hay, reaching down to brush bits of straw and dirt from the side of his face. Sam straightened, leaning backwards and rolling his broad shoulders; anxiously he searched for any sign of a return to consciousness.

"Hey, Dean. Can you hear me? Come on, man. Wake up for me. Please."

With a trembling hand he brushed the hair back from his brother's battered brow, resting it there, relieved that, as yet, there was no sign of a fever. Beneath his hand, the blood smeared brow wrinkled into a frown and lines of pain creased the pallid face. A low groan escaped from between his parted lips and the eyelids began to flicker as his head leant into the cold hand.

"That's it. Come on, Dean. Can you hear me?"

Dean felt the cool hand upon his brow, heard the familiar voice calling in the distance, calling his name, pulling him back from the warm, dark place where he had taken refuge. It was a voice he could never resist, and he struggled back through the foggy layers, reaching for his brother.

Cold, pain, disorientation, nausea, all came crashing back as he fought his way back to consciousness, all pushed aside as he answered the plea he heard in his baby brother's panicked tones.

"Unnhh… Sam." He croaked, his words barely more than a whisper.

"Hey, Dean. How you feeling, bro?"

His eyelashes fluttered open, parting to reveal glassy, emerald green that skittered in unfocused panic, searching wildly for Sam.

"Sammy. Wh…where, aahh… what..?"

He felt Sam's strong hand upon his face, cupping his chin and turning it gently towards him. Dean's voice tailed away as his brother's concerned face filled his vision, leaning over him, soothing his panic instantly.

"Hey, Dean. Calm down, its okay. I'm here, I gotcha."

Sam intoned steadily, breathing a sigh of relief as he sensed the figure before him relaxing.

Another, louder groan filled the air, his breath hitched in his chest as Dean weakly moved his legs.

"C…cold, Sammy!"

"Hey, I know. I'm on it, bro. Stay with me here, okay? I'll go get something to cover you, try and stay awake, huh?"

"Uh, huh…trying…to…"

Dean gave a small nod of understanding as Sam backed away to retrieve his jacket from the floor. He cast his eyes around the small stable and in the darkness along the left-hand sidewall he noticed deeper shadows hugging the walls, hanging as if suspended. He crossed the small space and his face broke into a relieved grin as he reached down two heavy sheepskin coats.

"Hey, you still with me, bro?" He called over his shoulder, grinning at the sight of the little donkey that had resumed its position, snuffling at his brother's neck. "This should do the trick. Looks like our luck's just taken a turn for the better."

Limping slightly, he crossed the short distance, displaying the coats and draped them, carefully, over the shivering figure laid out on the low, hay platform. Dean sighed in pleasure as the heavy weight settled over him, enclosing him in its warm embrace. Sam re-arranged the covers, pulling them up and tucking them securely below his brother's chin.

The glow from the lamplight reflected from warm, hazel eyes as Sam rose to his full height and grinned down, shaking his head at the dopey smile on his brother's face as he burrowed deeper into the dark fleece.

"That warmer?"

"Mmmmhhh. Much."

Dean blinked slowly, his eyelids growing heavier as he struggled to keep his eyes open in the golden glow of the storm lantern. In the shadows over Sam's shoulder, he was vaguely aware of the presence of the ghost. He could sense its frustration, distress, longing. Yet strangely, he knew it meant them no harm. He blinked wearily in acknowledgment at the disembodied soul.

"Dean, listen to me. Your leg's started bleeding, again. I'm gonna have a look round and see if there's anything I can use to clean you up a little. You'll be alright if I go see what we've got here, yeah?"

Twin, flickering lanterns reflected in miniature from the glazed green pools that locked unsteadily onto Sam's face.

"'M okay, Kiddo. Just tired. Go knock yourself out!"

The soft voice rasped, sleepily.

"You get some sleep, Dean, okay? I won't be far."

"'Kay."

The word came out as nothing more than a whisper.

Sam backed away, his exhausted mind whirling, spinning as he tried to decide what to do first. Collecting the lamp he checked their discarded rucksacks, tipping the contents of both out into a small pile, inspecting their supplies in the wavering light. It didn't take long. Aside from the knife, sawn off shotguns and spare shells, they had two flasks of holy water, a large canister of salt, kerosene in a flask, one granola bar and half a bag of M&M's.

Medical supplies were almost down to zero, an almost empty bottle of Ibuprofen and a small tube of antiseptic cream, the last remnants of the small first aid kit. Sam knew he had to stop the bleeding from the deep wound above his brother's knee, and try to find something for them both to eat.

He gathered their gear and hastily stuffed it back into one of the packs, and then grabbed the lantern from the floor as he made to rise. At the back of the stable stood a small table and two chairs, upon which stood a further two lamps and what looked like a small, gas cooking stove.

To the left of it, in the corner, something huge was completely covered by a securely lashed tarpaulin, whilst to the right, sat a large, white painted store unit, three deep drawers at the bottom and one large cupboard at the top. Far to the right, beyond the wall mounted tack rack, sat two large paraffin heaters.

Sam glanced at his brother as he hurried to the table, setting the lamp down he pulled open the cupboard door, praying their good luck would for once, hold. To Sam's disbelieving eyes it was as if he had stumbled into Aladdin's Cave.

On the bottom shelf, canisters, tins and jars were stacked in orderly fashion, a small saucepan, camp kettle, tin opener and matches sat to one side. The top shelf held two large, square elaborately patterned tins and an old fashioned radio, but by far the best find, in Sam's mind was the green, plastic box with a heavy white cross emblazoned on the side.

"Aah, thank you!"

Sam breathed a prayer of relief, picking up the first aid box.

"Dean." He called as he flipped open the catches, "Hey, bro. We're in luck."

He quickly assessed its contents. Bandages, swabs, antiseptic wipes, scissors and numerous Band-Aids all carefully partitioned, met his delighted gaze and there, tucked into the bottom, behind the triangular slings was a disposable suture kit.

Within half an hour, Sam had both paraffin heaters dragged to the front of the stable and giving off a steady heat. Next to the makeshift bed near the door, on one of the chairs, he had laid out the medical supplies and a large bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze to clean the wounds.

All three lamps were lit, the small camp kettle had just boiled and two steaming mugs of strong black coffee sat atop the table, the pungent aroma filling the stable. Quickly, he stirred in two large spoons of dark brown sugar, knowing he needed to get his brother's energy levels up.

Several tins of soup sat next to the small saucepan, ready for cooking and the two square tins from the top cupboard stood, lids discarded, one full of cookies the other with three quarters of a large fruitcake, wrapped in greaseproof paper. Sam wiped crumbs from his face before carrying the two enamelled mugs and placing them on the chair by the sleeping hunter's head.

He sat down beside his gently snoring brother on the left of the hay bales, taking a sip of his coffee before, carefully, raising the thick sheepskin jackets and pushing them back from Dean's lower limbs. Sam took a hold of Dean's left leg and gradually eased the snow damp denim up past his swollen, bruised knee.

Raptor looked up in interest, stretching her neck and stamping her dainty hooves, anxious at the sudden smell of blood.

"Steady girl, it's okay. He'll be okay, I promise!"

The grubby, blood-soaked bandage was still in place, but the various strains on his leg since that morning had proven too much for the pressure bandage to contain. The deep slice above his knee had bled more than once if the fresh blood now seeping through the stiffer dried brown stains, from earlier spills, was anything to go by.

A low, pain-filled groan startled Sam from his investigation. Instantly, he scooted up to his brother's head, calling out softly, to the weakly stirring figure.

"Dean? Hey, come on, dude. Wake up!"

"Oowhh, S…Sam?"

His eyelids fluttered, lashes casting long dancing shadows across his high cheekbones in the lamplight, unfocused eyes skittering in all directions as he lurched awake.

"Easy there, bro. Whoa, whoa, it's okay. I gotcha!"

Sam comforted, placing his hand, reassuringly, upon Dean's shoulder.

Momentarily unguarded, Dean's startled jade eyes allowed all his pain and fear to show through. He lay, panting, heaving in painful breaths as he fought to bring himself back under control.

"Dude, what're ya doin'? Crap, Sammy. That hurts."

His head turned to the side as nostril's flaring he struggled to subdue the pain, deep slow breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Gradually, his forehead creased into a look of confusion. Suddenly his eyes shot wide open; he stared from the chair near his head to the worried face of his younger brother, with a quizzical gaze.

"Dude! Can I smell coffee?"

He struggled to rise, eyes searching wildly.

Sam's gentle chuckle filled the air,

"Yeah, there's coffee, and it's good! Here, lemme help you up a little and I'll pass it to you."

Dean was trying to wrestle his way out from under the coat, grimacing with the effort.

"Oh, man! That smells good, Sammy! Where the hell are we, anyway?"

He looked around in bewilderment, smiling as his gaze fell on the little donkey, which stood quietly regarding him with her liquid brown eyes.

"Hey, girl." He croaked softly, flopping back to the hay.

"Don't you remember, we got turned around in the blizzard outside and your friend there led us here? I got you inside on the sled and you face planted while I was looking around."

"Yeah, I think maybe I was hallucinating, 'cause the last thing I remember was you chuntering on about reindeer and camels."

Sam sniggered, shaking his head. "'Fraid you weren't imagining it, dude, we're sharing a stable in Bethlehem, with two big reindeer and a freakin' huge camel."

"Figures." Dean shrugged in resignation. "Did you find the three wise men and Santa's super-charged sleigh?

Sam shrugged, smiling tiredly.

"Nah, haven't had time to look yet."

He leant over, disentangling the worn hunter from the cover, and then gripped him securely beneath the arms.

"You ready, bro?"

Sam's eyes searched the pallid face as Dean nodded his acquiescence.

Sam braced, and hauled his brother to a sitting position, leaning him back against the rough, plank wall.

Dean bit down on his lip, scowling heavily as the heel of his boot scuffed along the hay.

"Uunnhh! Dammit!" He whispered head held low, as white-hot fire screamed from his knee.

Sam held him until he felt the breathing steady beneath his hands.

"Ready?" He asked softly.

"Hell, just pass me the damned coffee, Sam."

Dean reached out, his cracked, blistered hands trembling faintly. Gingerly he took the hot mug, balancing it between his fingertips. He sniffed appreciatively before taking a long sip, swallowed, then managed a larger gulp. Smiling, he sagged back against the wall.

"Oh, god. That's good! Sweet, but good." He murmured.

Sam cleared his throat as he sat sipping from his own mug.

"Well, we struck it lucky, here, bro. There's heat, light, even a camp stove. I'll make us some hot food in a little while. There's even a Christmas fruitcake and a tin of cookies, and I've not even searched all the drawers yet." He glanced up before hurrying on. "There's a great first aid box, it's even got a suturing kit. So, we can get you cleaned up and get your leg stitched up."

"I'm fine, Sammy. M'leg just needs a bit of a rest, is all. Did you say cookies?"

"Dean, please. Your leg's been bleeding, on and off, all day. I gotta clean it and rewrap your knee. I got good light here, so don't argue, dude. It's a real deep slice, and it needs stitching. Soon as it's done, I'll make some hot food. Okay? Then you can have as many cakes an' cookies as you like!"

Dean tipped back the last of his coffee and then let his eyes fall to the gory bandage gracing his lower thigh.

"'S'not bleeding anymore." He tried hopefully.

"Maybe not now, but you know as soon as you try to move it'll just open up again. It's gotta be stitched, Dean."

Acceding defeat, he placed the empty mug on the bale beside him. Face paling as he cast his eyes over the large bottle of rubbing alcohol and kit laid out upon the chair.

"'Kay, Sammy! Knock yourself out!" He swallowed nervously, "Uh, Sam, there any painkillers in that kit? I guess my knee is a little sore. Is it getting warm in here, Sam, or is it just me?"

He reached up, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow.

"Yeah, those heaters are kicking in nicely. Let's get your jacket off; I need to check out the cuts on your back too. Come on, lean forwards."

"Hey, Sammy! How come I got all these cuts and bruises and all you got to show is a peck on the head from a freakin' insane robin?" He dry swallowed the tablets Sam held out to him.

Dean looked up plaintively at his grinning brother.

"I guess I'm not Mr Clumsy, dude!" Sam laughed softly.

"Bite me, Sammy!" He growled.

"Okay, bro. Where d'you want me to start, your hands, back, knee, or toes? Or is there anything else in between you haven't told me about?"

"Nah, my shoulder's just fine." He smiled wryly.

"Okay, so I guess, we start at the top and work down."

Sam helped him lean forward and slipped the jacket and undershirts from the unresisting shoulders. He pulled at the grubby, blood stained t-shirt that hung over the loose waistband, and made to slip it over his brother's head.

Dean cried out as the soiled cotton ripped away from the dried lesions marring his back.

"Holy crap, Sammy!" Dean whispered, angrily.

"Sorry!" Sam winced in apology reaching for the alcohol rub. "Here, try and clean up your hands, while I get on with this." He passed Dean two antiseptic wipes from the kit.

'_Might take your mind off this mess._'

Sam worked quickly; cleaning and dressing the still inflamed, deeper gouges, leaving the lesser scratches open to dry in the air.

Raptor wrinkled her expressive face in distaste as the pungent liquid evaporated quickly in the warm air. She gave a gently hee-haw and backed away, trotting slowly to nibble at the hay, now strewn liberally around the dirt floor.

Dean tried to concentrate on cleaning the open, weeping blisters on his palms, rubbed raw from the contact with his walking stick. Hissing in pain, he cringed as the cold antiseptic bit deeply into the exposed skin of his back, stinging sharply, fiercely.

"Nearly there, bro." Sam crooned sympathetically.

Dean just nodded, silently, eyes closed tight against the pain.

As he sat up from taping the last dressing in place, Sam gently draped one of the discarded, soft flannel shirts, over his brother's exposed back. He folded Dean's worn leather jacket into a cushion for him to lean against.

Dean lay back with eyes closed, the tension he held himself under, betrayed by the taut muscles of his abdomen. He panted softly, the lamplight reflecting off the light sheen of sweat highlighting his brows.

"You need a minute there, bro?" Sam queried.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. Whenever you're ready, Sammy." He breathed quietly.

"I'm gonna get your boots off, dude. Have a look at your toes, okay?"

"Oh, deep joy!" Dean paled further at the thought.

"You wanna lie flat for this? It's gonna hurt. "

"Hell, Florence, just get on with it. The commentary's not helping here!" Dean snapped, the pain making him sound unnecessarily harsh.

Sam shuffled stiffly to the bottom of the platform, loosening the laces in both boots and then carefully eased them off, first the left, trying not to jar the damaged knee, then the right.

Dean's whole body tensed against the pain, his eyes clamped tightly closed, he fought the whimpers that tried to escape his lips as Sam pried the cold, damp leather from his injured foot.

Sam worked quickly; he soaked the blood-stiffened sock with warm water from the small kettle, and left it to loosen as he cut the blood soaked bandage away from Dean's left thigh. The bandage fell away easily, wet as it was with fresh blood, exposing the inflamed flesh around the cut and the myriad coloured bruising that decorated his distended knee.

"You doing okay, Dean?" Sam called softly, hoping his brother would pass out before he cleaned up his knee and toes.

Dean just grunted, dipping his head briefly, in reply.

Sam moved back to the sock and teased it gently from the split nail and dried blood. He trickled the isopropyl alcohol over the toes, holding the foot steady as Dean sought to pull it away. Gasping as the liquid burnt it's way under the nails.

"Steady there, easy, Dean. Nearly done!"

Cleaning the small scissors with an antiseptic wipe, he trimmed off the worst of the protruding toenail, levelling it. Then he wrapped them in a Melolin pad and taped them securely together.

At some point, he had felt Dean go limp beneath his hands, the strangled gasps subsiding into quiet moans, then short breaths as he slipped, gratefully, into the welcoming arms of oblivion.

Swiftly, hoping to complete the work on the wounded knee before his brother regained consciousness; Sam thoroughly swabbed Dean's lower thigh, cleaning away both fresh and dried blood.

Gently, he elevated the limb, supporting the crooked knee with one of the heavy sheepskins. Pouring alcohol over his hands, he scrubbed them clean allowing the cold fluid to evaporate as he opened the sterile suturing kit. With shaking hands he trickled more of the antiseptic liquid over the mouth of the wound. Dean groaned and stirred weakly.

"Not yet, bro. Don't wake up just yet."

Sam muttered under his breath, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He was tired beyond belief and the heat of the barn was calling him to sleep. He was really in no shape to do this now but the ugly, jagged edges of the gash compelled him to hold it together for a little longer. With a deep sigh, he steeled himself for the task ahead.

Dean stirred fitfully, mumbling and moaning as the needle pierced his inflamed flesh. Pain spiking, reaching through the layers of darkness, calling to him as each fresh stitch was formed, gently pulling the skin together.

As always, Sam fought the nausea that accompanied him every time he stitched his brother back together, hating himself for the pain it caused, hating every time it had been necessary. His hands trembled as he tied off the last stitch and gently wiped away the blood that had seeped out during the process. Ripping open a sterile pad, he taped it securely down.

He finished off, wrapping the mottled knee and pad in a thick elasticated bandage; he breathed a deep sigh of relief.

He cleared the area of any evidence of his ministrations and carefully straightened his brother's jeans. As he stepped back, he gave in to the rising tide of nausea that he had fought for so long, and bolting for the stable door, he knelt outside in the ice cold of the night and allowed his stomach to void itself.

Shivering and exhausted, Sam staggered back into the barn, pulled the door to and leant back, resting his head against the wooden wall. Sucking in huge gulps of the warm air, his breathing gradually calmed and the tremors receded.

He turned off one of the heaters, conserving the fuel for the long night ahead, and gently covered Dean with one of the coats. Setting the kettle to boil, he selected a couple of tins of soup and emptied them into the small saucepan. Wearily, he made more of the strong sweet coffee, and set the soup to heat slowly. His mouth watered as the aroma of chicken soup filled the air.

As he waited for his brother to wake and the soup to heat through, his eyes fell upon the large tarpaulin draped shape to the rear of the stall. It was huge, and peeping from the bottom was the tip of a long runner. Sam's hopes rose as thoughts of a snowmobile and easy way out of their predicament, leapt to mind.

From the front of the stable, a long, low groan, followed by a sharper cry of pain, called for his more immediate attention.

"Sam! Sammy?"

"Dean, it's okay! I'm coming." He retrieved the fresh coffees and hurried to his brother's side as Dean struggled to rise.

Dean's bleary-eyed stare greeted him as he rounded the stalls.

"Hey, Sammy. Sorry I checked out before the finale, dude. Thanks for sorting me out. You okay? You had any rest yet?"

He smiled his thanks as Sam passed him the steaming brew.

"I'm good. Still checking out the back of the stable though. I figure I'd better keep going, cause once I sit down, I don't think I'll be getting up again for a while. It's been a real fun couple of days up here!"

"Yeah. Sorry 'bout that, bro. Nothin' really went the way I had it planned. It was meant to be a Christmas to remember. A good Christmas!"

"I never said I wouldn't remember it, Dean."

Sam smiled, shaking his head.

"You want some chicken soup? It's just about ready."

"Soup? I thought you mentioned cookies an cake."

"Yeah, soup first though. Then you can eat what you like."

Sam fetched the saucepan and a spoon.

"Eat as much as you like, dude. I've already eaten and there's plenty more back there. I'm gonna check out what else is stashed up the back there."

Leaving Dean to his meal, Sam made straight for the mysterious, shrouded mound; he tugged at the tarpaulin, hauling it in towards himself. It was instantly apparent that the sled runners did not belong to a snowmobile. However, any disappointment that may have briefly shown on his face was instantly replaced with a look of stunned, jaw-dropping amazement.

As the oiled cloth fell clear, there, resplendent in its red and gold paint, deep red velvet with white fur trimmed seats and huge sack, full to the brim with brightly coloured boxes of sweets, sat a beautiful sleigh. Sam reached out a hand, lightly running a finger along the row of dainty bells suspended from an alcove in the front panelling. A merry jingling filled the night air, and from the side stalls the reindeer stamped and coughed in excitement.

"Well, I'll be a …" Sam's whispered breathlessly.

"Sam! What in hells bells was that? Tell me the big bearded fella, in a red coat, hasn't just dropped in to fly us back to Bethlehem!"

Dean chuckled, craning his neck to see what his brother was up to.

"Dean, I just found Sa…"

The rest was lost as Sam, walking backwards, unable to take his eyes off the gleaming carriage, reversed straight into the soft eyed camel, who had stuck its large, shaggy head over the stall door to see what was going on. He walked straight into the side of its woolly neck and stumbled. Off balance, he tumbled to the floor, and sat staring straight up into the rather unamused face of the yawning beast that peered at him from beneath a long, shaggy mop of hair.

The tawny coloured dromedary batted it's long, thick eyelashes at the startled hunter and waggled its small ears before shaking its elongated face, sending a spray of camel spit in all directions.

Dean witnessed the entire scene, erupting into a howl of laughter at the look of abject horror, now plastered on his brother's face. Sam scooted backwards, frantically wiping the pungent saliva from his face with the back of his hand.

"Holy crap!" Sam managed, spluttering.

"I don't fancy yours much, Sammy, but I think you've pulled there, dude!" Dean laughed aloud, holding onto his knee as the laughter induced rocking threatened to awaken the joint to fresh agony.

He looked from the mop haired camel in the stall, to the flop haired figure on the floor and giggled uncontrollably.

"Sammy, it's a match made in heaven. You've even got the same hair stylist!"

Dean ducked the filthy, balled up sock that flew in his direction, continuing to snigger despite the jarring to his various wounds.

"Ah, man, the look on your face. That was just priceless, dude."

Sam, struggling to maintain his dignity, picked himself up from the floor brushing the hay, straw and dirt from his already grubby clothes. As a wave of dizziness overcame him, he sat heavily on the low bales and leant forwards, dropping his head into his hands, momentarily lost for words.

"Sam? Sammy, you okay?" Dean was instantly contrite. "Dude, you hurt yourself?"

Sam shook his head slowly. "'M fine. Just a little tired is all. Um, Dean?"

"What's up, Sam?"

"Just now, before the, uh..." He jutted his chin in disgust at the swaying camel. "Up the back there, I just found…well it sure looks like…I, I mean, it can't be, but it really does look like…"

"Sam, you hit your head? You're babbling. Come here let me look at your eyes. What did you find?"

"Santa's sleigh!" He met his brother's eyes squarely. "Under the tarp, back there. I just pulled it off, and there it was, presents 'n' all."

"Ookaay! Sam, you're tired. Come and sit down, you need to get some rest. In fact…"

"Dean, I am tired, very tired. But I'm not imagining it, bro. This must be some Bethlehem Christmas storage depot for all things Christmassy. I don't know, dude. Maybe it's for some Christmas procession. Maybe it belongs to some crazy hermit, who thinks he's Santa. Hell for all I know, Dean, it could be Santa's very own, freaking Grotto. All I do know, is that there's a sleigh, topped up with presents, sitting up the back of this stable."

Sam bent down, undoing his snow stained boots, groaning softly as he pulled them from his feet. Blood spotted Sam's worn socks where the long walk in his wet boots had chaffed at his skin.

"Sam, you got blisters? Here, lemme see! Pass me that first aid kit. Come on, let's get you sorted and then we'll both get some sleep. We'll worry about Santa's sleigh in the morning."

Dean worked diligently, cleaning and dressing the open blisters on both Sam's feet. Raptor had returned to chew lazily at the hay bales, and around them the noises of the other occupants filled the air. The camel, having lost its initial shyness now stood with its shaggy head peering over the stall, chewing the cud, steadily, as it regarded them through its black eyes. The reindeer, remained hidden in the shadows at the back of the pen. Raptor's large ears twitched at the plaintive bleating of the baby goat in the first stall.

Sam's head began to nod as he drifted contentedly off to sleep; slumped in the chair his long bangs falling across his face. Dean finished with his brother's feet and packed the kit tidily away.

wWw

The hiker smiled as he observed the care and devotion of the Winchester brothers for each other. These were brothers in the truest sense and they had begun to restore his long lost faith in mankind. He bit down his impatience to have them deliver the conclusion he so desired and basked in the warmth of their love for each other.

wWw

"Sammy, wake up." He called softly, gently shaking a long leg. "Sammy, you can't sleep there, you'll get cold and fall off. Come on, bro. Wake up!"

Sleepily, Sam raised his head, yawning widely. "Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep." He blinked blearily.

"Sam, get on here, there's plenty of room. Grab one of these coats, and get your head down. I'll keep watch, bro. Get some sleep."

"'Kay, Dean." Sam's head turned towards the ever-increasing cries coming from the door of the goat pen. "Dude, what's the matter with the little fella. I'll never get to sleep with that racket."

"Something's sure got it shook! Go pass it over here, Sam and I'll see if I can keep it quiet."

Obediently, Sam trotted over to the stall and hooked the loudly bleating, little black and white goat over the top of the door and presented it to his still smiling brother. It quietened instantly, snuggling into the warmth of the thick fleece that lay across his muscular chest.

"Just call me '_The Goat Whisperer'"_, he quipped, delightedly. "Now go get some sleep, Sam!"

And so it came to pass, that the two exhausted hunters found food, warmth and shelter, bedding down for the night amidst the beasts of the stable.

Ends

All reviews welcome and many thanks for those you have already sent. There might be a little break before the next post (might have to miss tomorrow!) as we have to muck out the stables! Back asap. xx


	12. Chapter 12 Save 10 Follow the Star!

Apologies for the delay in posting, our mucking out duties in the stable took us longer than anticipated. And mean that our trusty beta Kirsty has not been allowed time to work her usual magic on this chapter. Hence the dire punctuation errors she usual hides for us may be evident. They are all ours and we love than as our own!

To our Bethlehem readers we hope we continue to do your beautiful looking city justice and that the license we take is foregivable.

**The Twelve Saves of Christmas**

Save 10 Follow the Star 

December 24th 09.47am

Outside, the wind had howled and moaned, gusting fiercely as another blizzard ripped through the night, coating the land in a thick crust, deep drifts of endless virgin white. Inside, the stout walls of the sturdily built stable had kept the storm at bay, keeping its occupants safe and warm from the treacherous elements.

Both hunters had slept, long and late, snuggled deep into thick fleeces, cushioned on a deep bed of sweet smelling hay.

Dean had struggled to stay awake, keep guard, when Sam had eventually slumped beside him, totally exhausted from their two-day ordeal. He had comforted the small black and white goat, and managed to last at least ten minutes, before a deep, healing sleep had claimed him.

wWw

And through the long night the ghost of the Christmas Hiker had watched over the sleeping hunters. He had kindly quieted the snuffles of the animals so they might get some rest and put aside his own desperate need for closure so that they might begin to heal.

wWw

It was the little goat fidgeting, snuggled under the crook of his arm where it rested across his lean torso, which woke him. A soft, velvety nose butted him delicately in the side of his neck.

"Mmmh. Gimme a minute, babe." He mumbled, softly, turning his head and nuzzling gently at the hairy face. It was the prickling whiskers followed by the dainty hooves scrabbling at his ribs that filtered through into his sub consciousness, alerting him to the fact that his current bed companion was perhaps a little below his normal standards.

The little goat wriggled as it sought a way out from under the heavy sheepskin coat, and the slowly stirring hunter started in alarm as an insistent bleat issued loudly from under the cover. Blinking in surprise, he rolled to the side pulling back the covers.

"What the h…?"

He croaked, spluttering, as any further comment was cut off by a long, pink tongue that snaked out, licking him on his chin.

"Dammit! Sonofab…!" He hissed, as his sudden jolt woke all his injuries. He struggled to bite back the rest, as the tiny goat cried out in alarm at his distress. Blinking furiously, to clear his eyes of the dust from his night in the stable, he gradually calmed as he recalled his whereabouts and the events of the night before. His breathing slowed as his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering in from the outside.

From the other end of the hay platform, the familiar sleep sounds of his brother's gentle snoring reached him. He peered into the dim light and could just make out the tousled head peeping out from beneath the thick fleece.

During the night, both the lantern and heater had gone out and his breath misted into quickly dissipating clouds. Concentrating on keeping his movements steady, he eased himself up to lean heavily against the wooden wall. He held back the coat and the piebald goat straightened its neatly folded legs and scrambled down, sure-footedly, onto the hard packed floor.

Dean looked on in envy, wishing he could repeat the manoeuvre with as much grace. The need to relieve himself was getting more pressing by the moment, he glanced at the still sleeping younger man and dismissed waking him as an option. This called for his trusty walking stick.

He glanced around and spotted where Sam had propped it against the wall, by the door when they had first arrived the night before, trailing Dean behind him on the wooden sled. Dean had been a little out of it then, and had paid little attention to the whereabouts of his walking aid.

His objective in sight, he pulled back the covers, shivering as the bitter cold penetrated the open front of the thick, flannel shirt he wore. Hugging it tighter, he fumbled with the buttons, the dried blisters cracking as he flexed his fingers, trying to make them work. He grasped hold of the baggy denim of his jeans and used the stiff, stained cloth to carefully ease his left leg from the hay mattress. Ignoring the pain he repeated the process with the right and sat for a moment waiting for his head to stop spinning.

It was at this point, as he sat perched on the edge of the hay bales, that the previous day spent bareback, astride the narrow, bony back of his noble steed, Raptor, made itself known. The term 'saddle sore' didn't even begin to scratch the surface. Bruised, and tender muscles protested their treatment of the day before.

'_Well, if that aint just peachy? Now I can't even sit down without something hurtin'!_'

He shivered again. Quickly, he slipped into the heavy, dark sheepskin, revelling in the body warmth that still lingered within. Then supporting himself on his muscular arms, he gingerly, shimmied down the bales to where both his stick and boots awaited him. By the time he reached the end, where Sam lay mumbling softly, black spots danced before his eyes. All his wounds had woken to greet him, leaving him gasping for breath, eyes closed tight against each fresh flare of pain.

The easy thing, the sensible thing, would have been to wake his soundly sleeping brother, but Dean knew how tired his little brother had been after tending to all his injuries. So, he left him sleeping, struggled unaided, into his boots - at some point Sam must have put his socks back on whilst he slept - and now sat, head thrown back, digging his nails into the raw palms of his hands, in an attempt to distract himself from the lightening strikes of agony that shot up from both his left leg and right foot. The partially dried out leather of his old boots was like an inflexible corset for his sore toes and they throbbed nauseatingly.

The pulsing beat he felt in his hands too was perfectly synchronised to the pulsing throb that pounded through his head.

Breathing slowly, he forced himself to relax.

'_Dammit, how the hell will we ever get back to the car, if I can't even go for a leak on my own?_'

He thought, despairingly.

As always, when he felt he could no longer go any further, the harsh tones of his father rang in head, as clearly as if he were there, by his side.

'_Suck it up, boy! It's only pain! Make it work for you! Sammy needs you! Look after your brother!_'

That was all he needed. All he had ever needed in motivational terms. That Sam needed him. So Dean sucked it up, fresh resolve steeled his face and he inched towards the stout stick that leant against the outer wall. He'd made it outside and back, trying valiantly to ignore the pain. He'd shuffled over to the small camp stove, giving the camel a wide berth and leaning heavily on Raptor, who had come to greet him.

As Sam slept on, he managed to relight the paraffin stove and make coffee, before his strength finally gave out and he flopped exhausted into the straight backed, wooden chair by the small table. He sat, his whole body trembling with his head in his hands, sucking in deep laboured breaths, as beads of sweat rolled down his face and trickled into the thick sheepskin collar around his neck.

At some point, sleep or unconsciousness had reclaimed him. And that was where his brother found him, slumped in the chair his coffee gone cold, when Sam had eventually awoken, an hour or so, later.

Sam had gently shaken him awake, making fresh coffee, giving his brother time to pull himself back together. He didn't bother berating the older man for not waking him for help. He knew without asking that Dean wouldn't have considered his own need for help against Sam's need for sleep.

So they sat, silently sipping their coffees and surveying the wondrous sleigh that filled the furthest stall of the stable.

Dean eventually broke the companionable silence, sighing deeply as he leant to place his empty mug on the table.

"Dude, you were right. That is Santa's sleigh, there are reindeer and yup… your 'swapping spit' partner from last night, is indeed a camel. The way I figure it, is that someone from Bethlehem would normally come up here, collect all of this…"

He gestured widely around the stable.

"And take it all into town for a Christmas Eve parade or something."

"Well, I didn't really think it was the _real_ Santa's _real _sleigh, bro." Sam defended.

Dean smiled gently as he continued.

"Only thing is, Sam. I've been outside and I don't think there's any way, anyone is gonna get up here in this weather. Now, my baby's parked in the trees, it's more sheltered there and the roads'll probably be clearer. We can't be far from there! We should take the sled, get back to the car and we can be back in Bethlehem before it's dark."

"But, Dean, if the snow's that thick out there, we'll never make it back to the Impala!"

"Listen, Sammy. I'm not leaving my baby out there alone for another night in this weather, and besides. We still got a job to do. That spirit's still out there, only…it's weird…"

Dean's face was contemplative. His expressive eyes alive with a gentle concern that intrigued Sam. He prompted softly, wanting to understand his brother's feelings, knowing it was so hard for Dean to share them.

"Weird..?"

Dean's gaze flickered towards his brother. There was a sudden hesitation, a pulling back from a place where he might expose his heart. Sam recognised it and lamented Dean's need to close down.

"Yeah, Sam. It's just that I'm not so sure it's evil. It's…Hell, I don't know, but we still got a grave to find, and I'm not leaving this mountain till we find it!"

Sam stared at him open-mouthed.

"Dude, did I miss something? Did you say that freaky ghost wasn't evil? Hell, Dean, it tried to kill you."

"Just leave it, Sam! I don't know, okay, it's just… Nothing! We just gotta find that grave and take it from there, okay!"

Almost angrily, Dean held his brother's stare, willing him to leave it alone. Willing him to try to understand. Willing him to just trust him.

Sam shook his head, confusion evident from the frown that marred his brow. He shrugged in resignation. He didn't understand why it was suddenly so important to Dean to find the grave, beyond the need for a standard salt'n'burn, but he knew, regardless, he would back his brother to the end.

"Okay, Dean. It's your call."

wWw

The Christmas hiker sighed in the shadows, the knowledge that the older man understood his intentions and needs overwhelming him with relief. He sensed that his endless ordeal was drawing to a close, and knew that, even though these men were tired and beaten to the point of exhaustion they would see their 'job' through to conclusion.

He dared to hope that he would soon find peace and the remnants of his once human heart shuddered with that hope.

wWw

An hour later, with the animals fed and watered, the stable tidied and $40.00 left pinned to the wall above the table for the cake and cookies they had consumed, the two hunters left the relative safety of the stable and set off to find the Impala and the grave of their hiker companion.

They wore the heavy sheepskins and had split the contents of the first aid kit between their backpacks. Dean's pack also contained the fruitcake and the remainder of the cookies and the deep pockets of his borrowed sheepskin bulged with sweets, looted from Santa's sack of presents.

He had wanted to take the beautifully packaged Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh that they had found stashed under the low front seat of the sleigh. Sam, however, had vehemently pointed out that stealing sweets from Santa's sleigh, let alone stealing the gifts meant for the Christ child, would probably mean a one-way trip to hell.

Dean had argued that, as it couldn't possibly be the real Santa's sleigh, that it wouldn't really count. Eventually, they had compromised; Dean, cramming in as many sweets as he could carry in his pockets and Sam, carefully returning the replica gifts to the sleigh.

Sam had watched, bemused, as his seriously limping brother had bid a sad farewell to the little donkey, scratching her behind the ears and crooning quiet words that he couldn't quite hear. Sam had suggested they take the little donkey along for Dean to ride, or even the kid, just for company, but scowling he had refused, showing no inclination to ever sit bareback astride anything with four legs, ever again.

Sam's farewell to his admirer, the towering dromedary, had been a little less loving. The younger hunter had given the widest possible berth to the spitting beast, and Dean had laughed out loud as he caught Sam glaring at it as it had batted its long eyelashes at him.

Outside, the world was all gentle curves and glistening white, the angles softened by the blanketing drifts of virgin snow. The morning sky was overcast, leaden clouds that hung sullenly with the threat of more snow to come. The muffled silence and stillness, which only comes after a heavy snowfall, filled the air.

Sam had cleared a path from the stable door where the drifting powder had piled high. Out on the path, the snow was not so deep, still passable. Sam had helped his stumbling sibling out and back onto the track, steadying him as he had limped along, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

Falling in behind him, the younger hunter pulled the red and black sled with the two backpacks lashed securely to its base. Idly, he wondered how long it would be before his stubborn brother gave in and accepted the ride, or fell and had no other options.

As the spring-loaded gate clanged shut behind them, Dean stopped and flexed his spine surveying their surroundings. He glanced back over his shoulder, taking the opportunity to pop another candy into his mouth, as he waited for Sam to join him.

"Well, what way did we come in last night, Sam? Any idea where we took a wrong turn?"

He jutted with his chin to the three distinct paths where they now stood at the crossroads.

Yawning in the frigid air, Sam scratched at his head as he pieced together the events of the night before.

"We came in up that middle path; we followed the fencing through the trees. That was where I came back for you."

Sam tried to cast his mind back to the hellish journey through the blizzard of the previous night.

"Before that," he continued, "we were out in the open for a real long time, least it seemed like a long time. In the end I was just following the donkey. Somewhere we must'a just missed the turnoff."

Dean squinted up at the iron-grey sky, hoping for a hint as to the sun's position, but no rays penetrated the brooding clouds.

"So, when we first came up here, we parked ma baby in that clearing, maybe a couple of miles off the Old Bethlehem Road. We headed southeast on a track for a mile or so, then it opened up for, I guess, half a mile and then we turned east?"

He waited for Sam's nod of affirmation, before continuing.

"Okay, so then we headed north when we met that path running alongside the river."

"Yeah, we stayed on the track for about five or six miles, which took us all the way to Rocky Ridge, where you got up close and personal with your new best buddy!"

"Leave it, Sammy." Dean cautioned, quietly. "So anyway, we've either just missed the turn-off, or got turned around completely?"

"Either way, bro, we gotta go back through the trees and take a look round from there. Right?"

Sam concluded with a confidence he didn't feel.

"You wanna climb aboard?"

"Nah. Thanks, Sam, but I really need to try and get my knee moving, again. It'll be fine once it loosens up; it's just a little stiff, is all. Come on, let's head on out!"

With Dean hobbling in the lead, they set off, slowly, up the slight incline towards the thick stand of trees. As they reached the arboreal shelter the knee deep, white covering petered out, thinning to just above ankle deep and their pace picked up a little.

Sam almost sauntered along, rejuvenated after a good night's sleep and plenty of food. Warm for once, cosy in his borrowed sheepskin, the thick pelt buttoned and hanging loosely to just below his knees. If it weren't for the constant smarting of the open blisters on his heels, and the continuous worry he felt for his brother's condition, he would have felt quite content.

But, therein lay the problem. He could tell from the elder man's slow, awkward gait and the occasional muffled gasps, not to mention the mumbled cursing, that Dean was in no condition to be walking anywhere, let alone a hike back into the wilderness. Sam's brow furrowed as he cut short yet another attempt to dissuade the older man from leaving the safety of the stable.

Something was eating at his brother, something beyond the usual desire to rescue his beloved car, something that the taller hunter didn't understand. He tried to concentrate on their whereabouts, confident that without a total whiteout to contend with, they should easily find the right path. At least, he felt, it couldn't be too far to the car and there was always the sled to fall back on – well, not too literally – he hoped.

Dean laboured diligently up the small slope, the hem of his generous fleece dragging slightly, skimming the surface of the snow. Initially, he had almost believed that once his knee really did loosen up, he might just be okay. Had hoped that once his toes became numb, that the shooting pains, which left him breathless, would maybe recede to bearable.

The good nights sleep, the food and warmth and the care and attention he'd received courtesy of Sam, had gone a long way to reviving his flagging energy levels. However, energy, it seemed, might not be enough to get him back to the car.

He understood Sam's reluctance to leave the security of the stable. Hell he knew, in the back of his mind that that is where they should have stayed. Had it been his younger brother who was injured there was no way he would allowed them to plunge back into the wilds, but Dean was so used to sacrificing himself. Rationality had not really been a consideration.

Something was driving him. Something, even he didn't fully understand. Several times now he had felt the presence of the spectre they had set out to hunt, the first time, he thought ruefully, he had felt him just a little too damn clearly. Thinking back he realised the emotion he had felt then had been one of overwhelming frustration, rather than a murderous desire to kill.

Since then, he had felt emotions ranging from elation, to resignation to almost caring. Above it all though there was the deep-seated need and longing, a desperate loneliness and a desire for… What? Revenge? No, that didn't seem quite right. More a need for… Justice. The word just sprang into his mind and seemed, somehow right.

Looking up from his careful scrutiny of the snow covered track at his feet, Dean shivered as a wave of cold, which had nothing to do with the weather, passed over him. There it was again, in the shadows, the spirit they had set out to destroy, following them - or was it leading? Whatever the damn thing was, he knew without a shadow of a doubt, it certainly wasn't malevolent.

wWw

The Christmas hiker drifted on the breeze at the periphery of the hunter's vision. He wanted this man, who held his fate in his blistered hands, to know he was watching over them. Trying to keep them from harm.

If he had a voice he would have offered apology for his earlier violent actions but he had none apart from the journal and the letter. He prayed that the hunter would finally bring his words to Evie.

wWw

'_Okay, just keep going. Can't be much further to the top of this freakin' hill. Can't let Sam know how much it really hurts_.'

Determinedly, he gripped the stick more tightly, leaning on it more heavily with his freshly bandaged hands. He was glad now that Sam had insisted on a fresh round of first aid before reluctantly agreeing to leave the barn. Sucked in a deep breath and struggled on, blinking wildly to clear the spots that danced before his eyes with each agonizing step.

Behind him, Sam watched as the lurching figure ahead hunched ever further over the crutch, amazed, as always at his brother's seemingly unending ability to push himself to unimaginable limits. He missed nothing, knew every nuance in his brother's repertoire of cover up tricks, knew he was hurting and hurting bad.

"Hey, Dean. How're you feeling? You wanna take a ride on the sled? We could maybe pick up the pace a little?"

Sam queried, attempting nonchalance.

'_Umh! So, not quite fooling the Samster, huh? Better try harder, in case he drags my sorry ass back to the stable!_'

"Nah, I'm good, Sam. Just getting back into the swing of it."

He gulped, fighting back a yelp as his right boot jarred on the uneven footing.

"I can go faster once we get to the top of this slope. Hopefully we're not too far from the right path."

He continued, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Yeah, whatever, dude!"

Sam snapped at the labouring back, suddenly angry at his brother's stubborn refusal of help.

"Seriously, Sam. I'm fine at the moment. I promise if my knee starts playing up, I'll jump right aboard. Okay?"

"Dean, I can see you're not 'fine at the moment.' I can see you're about to keel over at every step. Don't worry; I won't carry you off back to the stable, if that's what you're so worried about."

Sam's concern and frustrations came pouring out as he continued.

"I don't know what it is that's so important for you to get back to the damned car that it can't wait till the snow clears a little. But whatever it is, I've agreed to go with you, so why can't you just admit that your damned knee's hurtin' you and get on this freakin sled?"

"What's the matter, Sammy? Get up off the wrong side of the bales, this morning? Or are ya missing your girlfriend already?"

Dean resorted to brother baiting, in an attempt to sidestep the issue.

"It's not a wonder you got on so well with that stupid donkey, you're as stubborn as a mule yourself. It must have recognised a kindred spirit!"

"Hey, bro. Dissing chicks is my job! Don't bring my donkey into this. She's a 'she', not an 'it' and she certainly wasn't stupid. Hell, at least she picked the good looking one!"

"Dude, don't try and change the subject."

Sam huffed, amazed at how easily his big brother could deflect a conversation.

"Look." He tried to calm down, reasoning, "At this rate it'll be getting dark before we make it to the top of the hill, let alone back to the car! Just for once, couldn't you admit you're in pain and get on the sled? I feel great, I really don't mind pulling you!"

"Yeah, I bet you wouldn't, Sammy. But you know I don't swing that way!"

Dean flinched as the snowball hit him squarely in the back. Gasped as he caught his balance.

"Hey? Not fair, Sammy. Talk about hitting a man when he's down!"

"You deserve it, Jerk!"

"Back off! Bitch!"

"Dean, you're impossible."

Sam's anger dissipated like the breath that misted before his face.

"Yeah, I know, but in a totally adorable way. Come on, Samantha. Cheer up! We've reached the meadow; now all we gotta do is find the right turn-off!"

Dean stood, panting at the top of the small hill, on the edge of the tree line. He didn't have long to wait as Sam's long strides brought him up level. A wide-open vista stretched out in all directions before them.

A huge, sloping, snow encrusted basin, encircled a sprawling lake that reflected the leaden sky with a sullen chill. In the distance, all around, the white-topped trees formed a wavering fringe that cast dark shadows over the stark white of the newly fallen snow. To the right, behind the trees a dark ribbon that meandered through the trees marked the river's haphazard course. Far up ahead and to their left, several smaller streams fed into the lake, whilst below and to their left four small creeks exited the body of water, lazy brooks that trickled sluggishly before running together to form a deep fast flowing stream where it reached the steeper gradient.

Dean stared down with horror at the scene before him.

"Holy crap, Sam!" He whispered, swallowing thickly. "Just how the hell far did we travel last night?"

"Dude, I couldn't see a thing in that storm. I just held onto your collar and… I guess I musta just followed your donkey. She sure knew where she was going; she musta taken us across those streams without me even noticing. Look."

Sam pointed to several white bands that crossed the streams in the distance.

"She musta known where the bridges were and just made straight for the stable."

"See, I told ya she wasn't stupid!"

"That wasn't quite my point, Dean. See, I don't remember crossing any streams on the way up to the ridge, and I don't remember seeing that damned huge lake at all. So, unless we're in a totally different freakin' valley, we gotta be parked somewhere right over there."

He gestured to a wide section on the far side of the valley, beyond the lake. The low hanging cloud cover hid the summits of the surrounding tree topped slopes, lending no clue as to their path of two days before.

"Guess we need to get a move on then, Sammy, huh?"

Dean stated with a hint of barely controlled panic, at the daunting task ahead of them, edging into his voice.

"Dean, seriously… It's not too late to go back to the stable and wait for someone to find us; they'll have to come out for the animals!"

"No, Sam! You'll see, once we get over there we'll recognise it. I'm sure of it. Look we just gotta get down this slope, round the top of the lake, there."

Dean pointed out a crossing point far ahead and to the left.

"Look, the car's gotta be in that section up there, between that stream there, and the big one over there." Balancing, unsteadily, he gestured to the waterways in question.

"'Cause otherwise, we'd 'a crossed over it on the way up to there."

He looked across, sighing, at the worried frown that marred the younger man's flushed face.

'_Hell, I gotta do something, before Sammy enters full-on panic mode, and hauls me back to that darn barn!_'

"Anyway, Sam! Look, we got a sled, we got a slope and we got us a big ole pile of snow. Come on. It'll be like when we were kids!"

"Are you insane, Dean? As if your knee's not damaged enough, already! No, we'd kill ourselves!"

"Aww, come on. Don't be a Sour Sam. You've been trying to get me on that sled for the last two hours, dude! It's perfect. Look you can even sit up front. It'll save us hours, and I'm not sure I can make it all the way down on my own!"

He turned a watered down version of _puppy dog eyes_ on his disbelieving brother.

"One way or the other though, I'm going down there!"

His emerald eyes sparkled, reflecting the crystal sheen from the snow, his mirth barely controlled.

"Dean, you are insane! I think you've maybe hit your head one time too many this last couple of days, either that or the pain has finally driven you mad. How the hell do you think we can both fit on that sled, let alone go down a slope that's gotta be at least one and a half, maybe two miles long?"

Sam looked from Dean to the sled to the slope and back again, running his fingers through his tousled hair.

"Sam…Come on, Sammy." Dean cajoled, watching his baby brother closely. "You know you want to, Sam."

"I guess it would maybe save us some time getting down there."

Sam's face lit up with a huge grin that to Dean's eyes made him look about twelve years old, again. "Ah, what the hell! You said I could go in front, huh?"

"Sure thing, bro. Help me onto the back, first. We can each put on a backpack and my stick can go down along the side. You're gonna have to hold on to my left leg, Sam, 'cause there's no way I can bend it on here."

Dean turned away, swallowing nervously now that Sam had adopted his impromptu transport plan. Still, he figured, even allowing for an almighty crash into the snow at the bottom, it would still be less painful than walking the whole way down.

"Yeah, sure! Why not? Come on then, let me line it up and get you settled. Let's do this!"

Sam sat his big brother down on the back of the sled. He then spent the next five minutes re-organising their meagre provisions as they both assessed the slope, trying to find the gentlest route down that would take them to their desired crossing point.

Once he had manoeuvred them into take off position he straddled the sled in front of Dean and managed the seemingly impossible, folding himself into the small seat.

"The slopes not too steep, dude! If I keep my feet out to the sides I should be able to stop us from goin' too fast or getting too far outta control. I'll try not to jolt your knee, but once we get going, I can't make any promises."

Sam glanced back over his shoulder at his insanely grinning brother and found that his own grin matched perfectly.

"Dean, you sure you wanna do this? Last chance to bail, man!"

"Come on, Sammy! Let's do this!"

And so the two fearless hunters found themselves wedged into a two-seater sled, giggling uncontrollably, as Sam shuffled them towards the edge using his boot heels.

There was a slight pause as they tipped over the edge, slowly reaching the point of no return. Then the sled runners moved, ploughing deep into the snow, picking up speed and sliding, gliding ever more rapidly over the faultless surface.

With a war cry that would have done Geronimo proud, they sped down the gently undulating hill, whooping and hollering with unrestrained joy, like children. And for those few minutes, children they were, laughing with tears in their eyes as they careered down the slope.

Overhead, the sullen clouds grew heavier, the sky darkening as the icy wind, once again began to blow in from the northeast, heralding the start of yet another snowstorm.

As the noble red and black sled reached the flatter ground at the bottom of the valley, it slowed gradually to a halt. Amazing both passengers were still more or less intact and laughing like there was no tomorrow.

Dean loosened his grip on Sam's coat and chuckling, wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Wow, Sam! That was one wild ride… You wanna go do it again?"

"I gotta admit, dude. That was one quick way down the hill. Man! We've not done that in years!"

Sam shook the powdery snow from his face and hair, before looking up at the leaden sky and the now, not so distant tree line.

"How's your leg feel? "

"Well it's felt better, but it would have felt a lot worse if we were still climbing down that freakin long slope. Look, Sammy! Look at our tracks in the snow."

Sam looked from the long, curving tracks carved into the otherwise pristine snow, to the look of wonder and excitement he now saw on his brother's flushed face. His breath caught in his throat as he realised how few times he'd ever caught his brother, looking totally unguarded, totally happy.

wWw

At the top of the hill the hiker ghost's ethereal face mirrored the pleasure of the laughing hunters. They had surprisingly survived their reckless toboggan ride and were closer to their destination. He hoped also closer to bringing him a conclusion to his interminable waiting. He could wait a little longer. Just a little longer.

wWw

"Well, that was fun. Serious fun, dude! But looking at that sky, we need to be making some more tracks outa here. Come on, gimme a hand up here, Sam?"

Dean winced as he made to rise, grabbed at his knee with both hands, head held low and shoulders hunched against the fresh pain as he lowered it slowly to the ground.

"Hey, I got a better idea, Dean. You turn round and sit tight on the sled and I'll pull us on over to the trees."

Sam bent and helped get Dean settled back on the sled, then grinned down at the stricken man.

"Then if I remember correctly, bro. You will recognise exactly where we are and get us onto the right path back to your beloved car."

"Sure, Sammy. Sounds like a plan."

Dean managed from between his clenched teeth.

So, they set off towards the dark woods, with the growing wind whistling in their ears, whipping up the powdery granules, which stung their faces. They both shielded their eyes as Sam plodded on, panting, as he hauled the trusty sled behind him. Peering into the gathering gloom they searched for the path back to the Impala, back home.

wWw

They were on the right track and the ghostly hiker drifted along behind them like a grim ethereal outrider urging them urgently onwards.

wWw

The weather had deteriorated, swiftly, bringing the visibility down to eight or ten feet in the swirling gusts. The threatened whiteout had arrived, accompanied by plummeting temperatures as the icy wind howled its fury across the meadow.

The sled had been discarded an hour before, when one of the runners had buckled after a collision with a rock. Dean had been pitched sideways from the low platform, which had left him lying, groaning on the ground, his pale face twisted in agony as he clawed at his distended knee. Sam had tried in vain to fix the runner, but the rear supports had snapped off as he'd tried to straighten it.

Eventually Sam had managed to help his suffering brother back onto his feet. Dean had tried to shuffle through the deep snow with only the aid of his walking stick, but after a few steps, the ailing limb had simply given way beneath him and he had fallen again.

The exposed valley had no place to shelter and there was no sign of a track through the trees, so Sam had simply picked his brother up complete with his crutch and carried him, stumbling into the wind, searching for somewhere safe to wait out the storm. Buffeted by the ever-increasing gusts, almost blinded by the driven snow, Sam had quickly weakened, staggering on legs that trembled more with each faltering step.

Desperate now, and dragging his brother through the deep drifts, he had crawled up the steep slope that led to the front line of densely growing trees, determined to force a path of his own. His boots had slipped, sending the pair of them sliding back down, to lie shivering and exhausted in the thick snow.

It was his brother's frantic, rasping voice that brought him back as he lay defeated, curled into a ball, fighting for breath, as the snow sought to cover them both.

"S…Sam? Sammy. Where are you? Answer me, Sa…!"

The rest was lost in a shuddering cry as Dean fought to raise his head, searching wildly for his sibling.

"Dammit, Sammy! Where are you?"

His voice made louder by the panic coursing through him.

"D…Dean. 'M right here, bro. Take it easy."

Sam rolled over and pushed to his knees, crawling to his brother's side and easing his head up out of the bitterly cold snow.

"Sammy, what happened? Where the hell are we?"

"We're still looking for your '_we'll recognise it when we're down here_' path."

Sam snapped, worry making him uncharacteristically harsh. Instantly, he regretted it as he saw the look of hurt that passed over the pallid face before him.

"Hell, I'm sorry! Look, we need to get out of this blizzard, real soon…but Dean; do you think you can walk? Just for a little while, I can't carry you and get up this slope at the same time. I'm sorry, man!"

"Carry me? Oh hell, Sammy. I'm sorry, dude. Look just help me up, I'll be fine, I swear! Have you still got my stick, Sam?"

"Wait, I'll get it, I just dropped it when I slipped. Stay there."

''_Kay, Sammy. It's not like I got a lot of options here!_'

Sam forced himself to his feet, grunting with the effort, brushing the thick clumps of snow from his coat and hair.

"It rolled over there, I'll be right back."

wWw

The Christmas hiker corralled the shivering hunter, using his insubstantial body to ride the buffeting winds and 'encourage' Sam, with directed blasts of frigid air, towards the spot where the essential walking stick lay. They must finish the journey. They could not fail like others before them had. He would have conclusion this time. For Evie. It must end.

wWw

Sam slipped and stumbled along the slope, quickly disappearing into the storm. The stick was wedged against a stout post. Sam leant upon it as he bent to retrieve the crutch. The regular corners had the feel of civilisation about them, which had been missing for so long, in their ordeal in the wilderness. Squinting through the whipping snowflakes, Sam rocked back in amazement.

"Dean!"

He cried, backing hastily from the post.

"Dean! It's a sign."

"What, Sam? What's a sign, a sign of what?"

"No, Dean. There is a sign, I've seen a sign."

"Sam, you having some sorta religious experience here? What are you on about, bro?"

Dean eased himself over onto his back, craning his neck to try and make out his brothers approaching form through the snow. He lay panting in the snow, digging his nails into the worn bandages that covered his hands, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming strikes of pain that knifed through his damaged knee joint.

Sam's hunched figure materialised out of the snow, using the long stick to aid his balance on the slippery footing.

He crouched down by his stricken brother's side, smiling widely.

"Dean." He explained slowly, "I've seen a sign to "Follow the Star to Bethlehem".

"Okay, Sammy." Dean answered just as slowly. "We know the freakin' star leads us to Bethlehem, but we need to go to the Impala, not Bethlehem. It's about 15 miles to Bethlehem. Don't suppose you saw a sign saying "Follow the Path to the Impala".

"No, Dean. You don't understand. When we drove up here, we passed the turnoff for the walking trail, through the valley to the Star."

Sam eased Dean up to a sitting position, before continuing.

"So, don't you remember? We were looking for the turning for the clearing where the Hikers ghost has been spotted before. We'd just passed signs for the "Follow the Star to Bethlehem" trail, it was only about 200 yards down the road that we turned off and parked up."

Understanding finally dawned on the downed hunter's expressive face, a wide smile momentarily wiping away all signs of fatigue.

"So, if that's a sign for the trail, then our pathway must be just a little ways further on. Then it's less than half a mile back to my baby! Come on, Sam. Help me up here, pass me that stick!"

"Dammit, Dean! You know what this means? We've just been saved from wandering forever in the wilderness by a sign. A sign telling us to, "Follow the Star to Bethlehem. If that's not another festive save, bro, I don't know what is!"

wWw

An hour and a half later, they struggled along together on foot, Sam holding Dean's left arm over his shoulder and gripping tightly to his belt buckle. They had slit a hole in the side of the thick sheepskin with a knife so Sam could resume his familiar hold. Dean sagged loosely in his brother's arms, his head lolling loosely against Sam's broad chest. But at least they were now in the shelter of the trees and back on the right path.

Sam was fairly sure his big brother had virtually lost consciousness about twenty minutes ago, but had somehow managed to stay upright. As they reached the clearing, Sam breathed a long sigh of relief, for there, parked to one side of the small glade waited the Impala. Shrouded in a blanket of white, only the tips of the chrome wing mirrors and tops of the wide black wheels showed through the covering.

"Dean? Wake up, Dean! We're here, bro! We made it!"

wWw

The sigh of the ghost whispered on the wind as he watched the hunters finally approach their destination. A few moments more and his ordeal would be at an end. His ethereal voice blended with the howls of the storm as he begged for peace at last.

wWw

Sam felt a slight stirring in the limp figure draped exhausted over his shoulder. He daren't stop for fear of never starting again.

"Dean, it's your car, your baby. We made it back!"

Dean's head jolted as the words penetrated the fog that surrounded his being. He could hear Sam's voice but also a distant, sorrowful lament that called him back to wakefulness with its desperate need. It was indistinct but sounded to be saying '_Save me...Free me_!'

"M'car? Where? Sa… Unnhh. Aaahh, crap! Sammy, that hurts!"

He struggled to raise his head, bleary eyes searching around, as all his aches and pains came crashing back with his increasing awareness.

"Oh, baby! You're a sight for sore eyes! Here, lemme get that snow off you girl. Sammy, put me down. Look at her, she's covered."

Dean cried out as he fought to stand unaided, hunching double with the pain, his eyes watering with the pain and the cold. Through the tears, in the distance, he saw the tattered form of the hiker ghost. The remains of its once human face were trying to form words and Dean squinted into the stinging blizzard trying to understand its message. '_Save me...free me_!' drifted to him once more and he nodded to the pitiful creature, unsure as to how he would achieve its request but determined to do so.

"Yeah, maybe I'll just get you inside, get the engine going and turn on those heaters, huh! I'll clear her off in a little while. We're not in any rush are we?"

Sam started to haul the complaining hunter over to the passenger's door, till Dean's angry protests changed his course. Brushing the snow from the crest of the driver's door, Sam propped Dean against the hood and held his hands out for the keys. Dean reached painfully into the inside pocket of his leather jacket beneath the sheepskin coat, and withdrew the keys, dropping them into Sam's waiting hand.

After several minutes of muffled cursing and careful manoeuvrings, Sam had his sweating, huffing brother safely ensconced behind the steering wheel, the engine running and had moved to clear the snow from the windows.

The light inside gradually changed from pearl grey to overcast daylight as each window was divested of its white coating.

"Sam, I'm gonna move her forward, she's been parked in the mud and snow for a couple of days now, I wanna just move her wheels, check she's not iced up. Stand back, Sammy. Don't wanna spray you with snow now!"

Dean lovingly stroked the leather of the steering wheel, then gently slipped her into drive, wincing as he flexed his broken foot applying pressure to the accelerator.

The low purr of the engine picked up a beat, the wheels caught lurching forwards before slumping back and spinning on the spot.

"Dammit, I knew she'd stick in this freakin' weather."

He called out to Sam who waited patiently under the trees.

"I'm sorry baby; I should never have left you this long!"

Steadily he pushed the stick into reverse, again giving her some gas. The wheels spun as the engine growled louder.

"It's no good, Sammy. I'll stick her in drive and you try pushing, or get some branches to place under the rear wheels."

"Okay, Dean, just give me a minute, I'll get some of those fir fronds, they should give it enough traction."

"Not an 'it'" Dean muttered under his breath. "Don't you worry, honey. He's just doesn't understand!"

Dean watched, eyes drooping in the comfort of his only true home, as Sam hurried around gathering branches.

"Okay, Dean! This should do it."

Sam moved swiftly to the back wheels with an armful of waxy fronds.

"Sammy you mind that bodywork, okay?"

"Dean? Dean come here, dude. Oh, crap! You can't. Wait, I'll come get you. You gotta see this, man!"

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"I think we may have found the grave!

wWw

Through the fogged up window, Dean smiled at the ghostly figure that rode the storm before him as the creatures lilting voice wafted a sigh of 'Thank you' to him on the wind.

Ends

You all thought we were gonna have the 'light from yonder star' save them didn't you? Well to be honest we were! But when we did the research the Bethlehem star doesn't light up til 4.30pm each day and we didn't want to leave the boys in the snow any longer. Hence they really were saved by a SIGN!


	13. Chapter 13 The Hiker's Diary

Ok so the last post was save 10 and I see you all thinking so this has to be Save 11. Right?

Wrong!

This is a sort of pre-save 11 but as the story developed became essential to the plot. Save 11 will follow this one tomorrow!

The chapters just keep getting longer on us...it's those boys! They talk and talk and talk!

But you'll all be delighted to know we got our act in gear and Kirsty made this one better after we gave it comma-itis! Ah a good beta is worth at least £4.73!

**The Twelve Saves of Christmas**

The Hiker's Diary

December 24th 2.30pm

"Well no wonder he threw me over the cliff, Sam, we parked right on top of the poor guy and he was in a bad enough state without having my baby crushing his old bones as well!"

Dean swayed a little as he clung to his faithful crutch looking down to where Sam knelt beside the snow covered bones. The pain in his legs was now augmented by a searing tightness in his lower back where the muscles bunched and pulled insistently, a legacy perhaps of their insane but exhilarating toboggan ride.

He hurt like hell but the smile on his face would hopefully keep Sam from realising how crappy he really felt. It wouldn't help either of them for Sam to know how close to falling over and not being able to get back up he really was. He lowered his grey circled eyes to where his brother knelt in the snow at his feet, longing for the warmth of the Impala's interior but needing to see their task to conclusion.

Now that they had driven the Impala off of the burial site they were better able to see that the slight mound in the soil under the snow was the remains of a body. Sam had swept his hands over the area and other bones, beside the femur they had first spotted, were now clearly visible.

Sam nodded in response, continuing to clear with his large hands as he glanced up at his brother, sportingly pretending that Dean's weary smile did anything to disguise how close to collapse he was.

"So, what do you think happened to him?"

Sam's hands found the skull as he spoke and he held it up towards Dean, shivering a little as he did despite his 'borrowed' sheepskin coat. Dean carefully shuffled a little on his feeble legs so he could release one hand from the tree bough that had become his stout supporter, and took the skull in his hand. He raised it up to eye level and looked thoughtfully into the blank, empty eye sockets. He held the pose for a few moments as Sam watched, a look of amusement on his face. Finally the younger Winchester could restrain himself no longer.

"Dean?"

His brother's soft, green eyes turned from the skeletonised stare to Sam.

"Well?"

Dean shook his head and tossed the skull in Sam's direction.

"He ain't saying diddly squat, Sammy!"

Dean drawled, as Sam grabbed for the catch.

"You surprise me!"

Sam snarked, gently setting the skull beside the pile of other bones he had unearthed, before rising to stand beside his brother.

"Do you think it's him? Tannenbaum, I mean."

Dean nodded.

"Yeah, Sam. I do."

Dean's face was surprisingly convinced as he answered and Sam found himself nodding along.

"What makes you so sure?"

Dean repositioned his stick as he held Sam's gaze for a second or two, then he slowly, and with obvious, marked discomfort, moved closer to the unearthed remains. He scuffled the tip of his crutch around in the snow where Sam had been working as he spoke. Sam surreptitiously moved a little closer to his brother as he observed the increasing sway in his posture.

"Oh, I don't know, Sam. I just ..."

He paused and glanced nervously at his sibling, checking to see if Sam was going to laugh. Sam remained motionless, his face a curious mask as Dean continued.

"I don't really know. It's just a feeling. I...somehow I know it's him, that's all. I don't get a sense at all that he's malevolent. He doesn't seem to really want to hurt anyone. It's like he wants us to find him, Sam. Like he's been here too long and he wants it to be over."

Sam nodded, amazed at the vulnerability that he heard in Dean's words. It was so unlike his guarded, controlled brother to offer such esoteric information and Sam was touched that Dean felt able to share his thoughts.

"What are you looking for?"

Sam crossed the few steps to Dean's side as he continued to sweep his crutch through the snow that blanketed the corpse. Dean glanced up quickly and the motion rocked him on his broken toes. He jerked looking to relieve the weight from his broken foot only to load his ruined knee. His legs began to buckle beneath him.

"Owh, crap!"

Sam caught Dean's elbow and supported him as he sucked in air against the sudden flare of pain.

"Here."

Sam helped the limping man to an old tree stump nearby and settled him carefully down, straightening his damaged knee out before him. Dean's hands went to his leg as he gasped softly in pain.

"You okay?"

Sam crouched in front of his brother, his hand on Dean's thigh as the older man struggled to get his breathing back under control. It took almost a minute before Dean slowly released his knee and looked up. He looked exhausted; pale and drawn, and Sam knew he needed to rest real soon.

"How you doing, Dean?"

There was a significant pause before Dean answered, as if he was weighing up what to say. Sam watched as exhaustion won out over his brother's ever present need to protect him.

"I hurt, Sam."

Sam nodded, his heart hammering in his chest at the words that he knew cost Dean such pain to say. He looked into his brother's pale green gaze and was touched by the trust he saw there.

"I know. I can see."

Tears pricked in Sam's eyes and his voice caught as he spoke.

"We need to get you home and into a warm bed..."

Dean smiled ,a silly flirtatious smile.

"I don't usually put out on a first date, dude."

Sam snorted and stood up, laughing.

"Yeah sure, not what I'd heard! Well, maybe not a crappy first date like this!"

Dean's laughter joined Sam's, and in the trees the Christmas Hiker smiled too.

"So, what were you looking for?"

Sam scuffed his feet about in the snow, casually looking for any further small bones he needed to add to the pile he had unearthed. Dean glanced over the snow surface as if seeking something as he replied.

"I think there's ...maybe a..."

Dean paused, embarrassed.

"What, Dean?"

"It's as if he wants us to find something, Sam, like he's left a clue behind. Maybe like a note or a diary or something?"

Dean glanced at Sam. His deep green eyes looking for a hint that Sam was gonna laugh. He didn't.

"How do you know?"

Sam searched the snow covered area as he spoke and Dean rubbed absently at his knee as he watched.

"I don't exactly know. I just feel that he wants us to understand his story, Sam. Like maybe been trying to tell us from the start."

Sam nodded thoughtfully and Dean continued reassured.

"Think about it, Sam. He hasn't ever really hurt anyone. He 's just sorta...herded people towards this spot."

Sam stopped and looked incredulously at his brother.

"Dean. He threw you off a cliff, man!"

Dean tilted his head to the side, his tired face animated.

"Yeah, I know, Sam, but I think he was just...well, frustrated."

Sam laughed.

"Some frustration!"

Dean joined in the laughter.

"Well, I grant you, I could have done without the flying...and the holly and everything."

He rubbed at his many cuts, grazes and scratches as the warmth of his sheepskin coat made then itch a bit.

"But see, when I think back, he was trying to drive us in this direction."

Sam paused in his obsessive ground clearing and looked thoughtfully at Dean.

"Yeah...actually you could be right. All the way along he has sorta tried to 'herd' us towards here, hasn't he?"

Dean smiled as he nodded, pleased that Sam seemed to see his point.

"So, I think he was trying to get us to come here, to find him. But we were going in the wrong direction, looking for him and he, well... he got pissed and threw me over the cliff!"

Sam nodded sagely.

"Well, Dean, there have been many times when I have longed to chuck you ass over a cliff so I can understand his frustrations."

Dean raised his eyebrows and ignored his brother's off hand humour.

"So, you see I think he wants to be found. He's fed up of being out here all alone and wants it to be over."

As Dean was speaking Sam had crouched down a little ways from the body and was digging in the banked snow where there was a smaller mound evident. He cleared the dry, powdery snow and pulled at the buried object as he mumbled.

"Well, I'll be..."

"What, Sam? What d'you find?"

Sam stood, shaking the snow from the tattered remains of a cloth back pack. He held it up for Dean to see.

"Tannenbaum had a backpack on in that picture; the one you copied into the file, the one his wife took of him as they set out to hike that day."

Dean nodded and Sam crossed back to Dean and laid the pack on his brother's lap.

"Do you think it's his?"

Dean's voice held a note of disbelieving wonder and Sam couldn't help but smile.

"It could just be, bro. Open it and let's see."

Sam plopped down on a low log to Dean's side as the elder Winchester undid the strap fastening with his sore, shaky fingers.

The journal was weathered and worn and its once deep-brown cover had faded over the years but the back-pack had saved it from marked deterioration. The letters on its cover had been blocked in gold but there was little gleam left to them now. However, as Dean ran his finger over the J and T they were clear enough to be discernable.

"J.T...James Tannenbaum."

Sam spoke quietly and Dean looked up into his hazel eyes.

"Yeah. Go figure, huh Sam?"

As he carefully opened the fragile book, a folded note fell from the faded leaves and Sam leaned to catch it before it hit the ground. He turned it in his big hands and read the name written in shaky script.

"Evie Tannenbaum."

Dean took the stained, brittle paper that his brother held towards him and Sam watched as he read, his lips moving as he silently breathed the name inscribed there. He watched as the breath caught in Dean's throat and tears sparkled in his expressive eyes. And Sam was touched by the intensity of feeling his brother had for these lost souls.

"Should we read it?"

Sam tipped his chin towards the note as Dean looked at him.

"No."

Dean's voice was soft but emphatic as he looked into his brother's eyes.

"It's for her, his wife. It'd be wrong to read it."

Sam nodded as Dean reached under the sheepskin and put the letter in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He took up the journal, again, from his knee.

"We should look at the diary though, Sam."

Sam looked at his brother. He was trembling a little. The dark circles beneath his eyes highlighted their vivid green but Dean could do nothing to hide the tiredness in them from his knowing brother.

"You wanna sit in the Impala and read? It's cold out here, Dean. It'd be more comfortable. Come on."

Sam stood and stretched his hand down towards his brother but Dean made no move to take the proffered help.

"What is it? Your ass frozen to the log?"

Sam joked and Dean glanced up briefly before dropping his gaze to the snowy ground. Moments passed before he answered softly.

"I don't think I can get up, bro."

Sam kicked himself for his insensitivity.

"My legs have ceased up altogether."

Dean's wide green eyes found Sam's hazel ones and Sam nodded. He hunkered down in front of his seated brother, speaking gently.

"Pass me the journal."

Sam took the shabby book from Dean and tucked it carefully into his pocket.

"I need to bend your knee so you can get your legs under you as I lift ya up. It's gonna hurt, Dean."

The older man nodded tiredly and Sam took hold of his brother's left leg by the calf and, as gently as possible, slowly bent the knee so Dean's foot was flat on the floor. Part way through the manoeuvre Sam felt a tightly gripping hand grasp his shoulder, but Dean said nothing. His panting gave the game away though, and Sam could see the pain in his face as he again stood before Dean.

"Okay?"

Dean nodded; not trusting himself to speak and Sam bent his knees and put his arms around Dean's waist.

"Put your arms round my neck."

Dean complied.

"On three. Okay?"

He felt his brother nod against his chest.

"One...two...three."

Sam rose slowly but steadily, taking his brother's weight as he pulled him up from the log seat and was unsurprised as gasp after gasp of pain whispered against his chest as Dean pressed his forehead against Sam's coat.

"Owh, Crap..!That hurts, Sammy."

Sam held Dean against his chest as his wrecked legs found what little strength they had and his breathing steadied.

"How you doing, bro?"

Sam felt the older man struggle to push himself as upright as he could and he carefully shifted his grip, throwing his brother's arm around his shoulders as he slid his other hand into the familiar round the waist, holding the belt, grip. Thus, side by side, Dean virtually tucked under his baby brother's arm, the Winchester boys finally made it back to the Impala.

wWw

Sam had tried, briefly, to persuade Dean to let him put him in the back seat so he could stretch out his injured legs. However, he might have well suggested they paint the Impala pink, and Sam gave up the battle and settled Dean back in the driver's seat, reasoning with himself that he'd swap with Dean when it came time to drive.

The big old V8 turned over, grumbling back to life, her throaty purr welcome and familiar to both brothers. A feeling of relief descended on the boys, both relaxing as the comforting sound of _home _washed over them. Dean absentmindedly stroked the steering wheel as he listened to Sam rustling around in the trunk.

"Hey, Sammy. Find the K-Mart bags in the back there. Bring 'em round; we got some cookies, chips, beer and water in there."

Yeah, just gimme a minute, I'm digging out the first aid kit and some blankets."

"Come on, Sammy. She's warmed up nicely now. Give her a minute to warm up and the heater'll kick in. I got a spare gas can in the trunk, so we're good for hours, in case the roads haven't been cleared yet."

Sam climbed into the passenger side, his hands full of old blankets and supply bags from the trunk and tucked Dean up, amid much grumbling that the elder Winchester wasn't a freaking invalid. Dean didn't refuse the blanket, though, and Sam was happy to see his trembling had almost ceased. He similarly wrapped his own legs, glad to be out of the chilling wind and reaching into his pocket, handed the fragile Tannenbaum journal to his brother.

"Check the exact date he went missing will you, Sam?"

Sam reached into the back and pulled the folder that Dean had so carefully compiled into his lap. He leafed through the papers, running his finger along the text, speed reading the words.

"Ummm...yup, it was Christmas Eve 1995, Dean."

Sam confirmed closing the file.

"Thought so."

Dean carefully opened the journal, looking for that date. The spine of the book was stiff, the old leather binding brittle and it cracked as Dean pried the pages open as delicately as he could. Dean read for a couple of minutes in silence as Sam waited patiently.

"Okay, here's an entry for a 20th December, 1995. I think this is important, Sam."

Dean handed the book to Sam and he began to silently read the text.

"Read it out, Sam."

Dean's voice did nothing to hide his exhaustion and Sam glanced briefly at his older brother. Dean's head was leaned back against the crazed black leather of the bench seat, his eyes heavy with sleep as he snuggled under the blanket as the heater finally began to warm the frigid interior.

"You need to sleep, Dean."

Sam went to close the diary but Dean determinedly rolled his head upright, turning stiffly to look at Sam.

"No, not yet! Sam, I'm alright."

Sam frowned and opened his mouth to argue. Dean silenced him with a single word.

"Please!"

Sam nodded and fumbled in the bags, lifting out their medical kit that he had brought from the trunk. He found Ibuprofen and held two out to his brother as he reached for a bottle of water from the bag of supplies.

"At least take something for the pain."

Sam reasoned as he proffered the pills, and, although Dean rolled his eyes, he worked his hand from beneath the blanket and took the medication from his brother. Sam cracked the top off the bottle of water and passed it over, smiling in relief as Dean chugged the medicine.

"Happy, Sammy?"

Dean grizzled, though his eyes betrayed his gratitude and Sam nodded as he lifted his own water bottle to his lips and drank, as Dean continued.

"I want to finish this. Please read the pages, Sam, and then we can go back into town and I promise I'll sleep for a week. Hell, a month if you want, but please read Tannenbaum's words. He needs this to be over. I need it to be over, Sam!"

Dean's pale face was determined and Sam knew he was defeated before he started. He nodded his acquiescence and, taking the book back up, started reading.

'_I know for certain now that Elwood and Lyman are indeed embezzling from the mill. I had doubted it but I have gone through the accounts now and only they, as co-owners, could have signed the papers that have subversively stripped the assets of the firm for their own gain. _

_I don't know if they are aware that I see what they are doing. Maybe I imagine it but I seem to sense their unease with me. _

_I will confront them tonight and hope there is a rational explanation for what I see as I know that this will bring the company down, will crash the mill and hundreds will lose their livelihood. _

_I pray I am wrong and that the Harveys' can explain their actions.'_

Sam paused and looked towards his brother. He had expected that he might see the elder Winchester asleep; as it was now finally warm in the car and he knew how exhausted Dean was, so he was surprised at the keen alertness that he saw in those familiar green eyes. This job had become personal for the elder Winchester and his determination to bring it to conclusion was palpable.

"So it wasn't him at all?"

Sam reasoned as Dean shook his head thoughtfully.

"No, seems not, Sam."

Dean nodded at the dry, old book in Sam's hands.

"Does it say if he did confront them with his suspicions?"

Sam gently parted the leaves of parchment dry paper and winced as bits flaked away in his hands. He skimmed through the paragraphs of Tannenbaum's neat handwriting as Dean watched and started reading again as he followed the, at times, indistinct text with his finger.

"_I am inclined to believe that Elwood knew little of the plot to bleed the money from the mill as he has always been the follower to Lyman's leader, or maybe I would just like to believe that one of my partners, my friends, is not corrupt to the core. Unfortunately, though, it is self evident that Lyman knew exactly what he was doing and, in fact, seemed to revel in his audacity."_

"I wonder if Lyman's the older or younger brother?"

Dean's voice was a mixture of exhaustion and curiosity as he interrupted. Sam grabbed the file from the foot well and found the newspaper story about the founding of the mill and the partners.

"Why does it matter?"

He scanned the grainy text as he spoke.

"No, I don't guess it does..."

Dean yawned, moving his leg trying to find an easier position for his damaged knee.

"I'm just curious."

"Unh..?"

Sam mumbled and Dean looked at his brother.

"He was the younger brother...Lyman, I mean."

Sam clarified as he put the file aside.

"Lyman was younger by 4 years."

Dean laughed.

"What's funny?"

Sam shook his head at his brother's mirth.

"We're 4 years apart, that's all. Seems appropriate somehow."

Sam raised his eyebrow and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess."

He tapped the pages of the old diary.

"There's more here. You wanna hear it? It's dated 23rd December 1995, the day before the hike that he never returned from."

Dean nodded sleepily, fighting to keep his eyes from closing in the warmth of the Impala's interior as Sam resumed.

'_Elwood has agreed that they will go with me to the authorities and I will help them plead for clemency. I believe Elwood is sorry for the devastation we are going to bring to Bethlehem but I am not convinced about Lyman. _

_He seems a changed character in my eyes. Not the man I have known and trusted for years. He is unrepentant and, if I did not know him as I do, I would think he was utterly unconcerned by his damming actions.'_

Sam skipped forward a few sentences as Dean drank his water and watched through the windscreen as the soft snow fell on the burial site they had cleared. Tannenbaum's bones were being slowly covered again with a masking layer of white, just as the reasons why he lay there were being uncovered. It was an interesting contrast. Dean dragged his attention back to Sam's words as he continued to read Tannenbaum's writings.

'_I have agreed we will hike the South Mountain one last time. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and it has become our tradition to hike the hill together. _

_I will let Lyman and Elwood have a last Christmas with their families before I bring this down on them. I can do that for them, if nothing more. _

_And I must work out how to tell Evie what I have allowed to happen. My god, I hope she will understand I had no part in this. I could not bear to think she thought badly of me. _

_I love her more now than when I met her and this news is going to devastate her.'_

Sam paused, staring down at the faded cover for a few seconds before he turned to his brother. Even in the fading light Dean could see the sparkle of tears in the younger man's eyes.

"So they hiked..."

Dean murmured softly, turning to Sam.

"And they killed him?"

Sam's face was pale in the moonlight.

"It would seem so."

Sam sighed as he replied and Dean slumped a little in the blankets.

"Is there any more in the diary?"

The older man reached toward Sam and gently took the book from his hands as Sam pulled the blanket tighter around his own body, suddenly cold despite the warmth from the Impala's faithful old heater. Dean leafed carefully through the diary, returning to the spot where Sam had stopped and then turning the next page.

Here the script on the stained pages changed form significantly. Tannenbaum's neat measured writing gave way to increasingly shaky text that belied the condition his words described. The pages too were heavily stained with the dull brown of old blood. Dean read quietly the final entry.

'_It is, I suppose, Christmas Day now as I think hours have passed since they left me bleeding in the snow. And I know for sure now that no one is going to come to my rescue, and I am going to die. _

_We hiked to the Star, atop South Mountain on Christmas Eve, as we have for all the years we have lived here in Bethlehem. The woods were beautiful as always._

_Elwood tried his damndest to persuade me to keep my peace and not to disclose that the mill is bankrupt due to their corruption. It was pitiful, but I knew I could not weaken. _

_Lyman said very little, but his face scared me. He was not the man I knew anymore and I could feel Elwood's terror of his own brother. _

_Still, I had not expected the gunshot when it came, and I think Elwood was as shocked as I._

_I did not fully realise what had happened straight away, but the blood and the pain in my gut told me I was mortally wounded. I watched them argue for what seemed like an eternity until Elwood persuaded Lyman to leave me and flee. The words were indistinct to me as the sound of my pain roared in my ears but I will never forget the blackness of Lyman's eyes as he watched me stain the snow crimson. _

_Those eyes were ...inhuman._

_So, I have stumbled and crawled to this place and here I think I shall die. _

_It is a peaceful place but I do not think my soul will find peace. How will Evie know what has become of me? _

_I fear they, the brothers who have ruined my life, will lay blame for this atrocity at my door and though I know my Evie will not believe them, she will have no proof. _

_Thus, I have written this note to her and I pray to God that, one day, I will be able to know she has received it.'_

"Stop a minute, Dean."

The younger Winchester's face was alive with curiosity.

"Go back to that bit about Lyman's eyes..."

Dean frowned in concentration and ran his finger over the page as he tracked back to the paragraph and re-read James' words.

'_...my pain roared in my ears but I will never forget the blackness of Lyman's eyes as he watched me stain the snow crimson.'_

The brothers held each other's gaze for moments in horrified realisation, before Dean finally voiced their shared conclusion.

"Holy shit, Sammy. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sam nodded slowly before wincing slightly as Dean quipped in delight.

"Well, I'll be damned if it isn't Lyman, the demon!"

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes and Dean snickered as he returned to the diary.

The script had become indistinct scrawl making Dean's eyes water with the effort of reading the words but he continued, becoming serious once more as he repeated Tannenbaum's last words into the now warm interior of the Impala.

'_The sun is rising now and it is beautiful but my strength is fading. _

_Whoever you are who reads this, please let my Evie know I love her and I am sorry for leaving her like this...If I know that I have her love, then can I find peace.'_

Dean closed the diary and placed it carefully on the seat between Sam and himself.

"I wonder if she still lives in Bethlehem?"

Sam said quietly after a few moments. Dean turned his head to his brother and smiled softly.

"I doubt it. Would you stay here?"

Sam slowly shook his head.

"But if she's alive we'll find her, Sam."

There was determination in Dean's voice and Sam returned the smile. He tipped his head to the bones where they lay before the car.

"What do we do about...James?"

Dean followed his gaze to the sad little pile of remains of the man they felt they had come to know.

"Leave him. This has been his resting place and once we find Evie and give him his peace it could be as good a place as any to rest."

Sam nodded hesitantly.

"What, Sam?"

Dean could feel the unease emanating from his brother.

"We don't salt and burn him?"

Dean shook his head.

"He's not malevolent, Sam. He was just pissed! And he's had enough of brothers' attacking him on this mountain."

Sam looked again at the bones.

"We'll tell the police in Bethlehem where they can find him...anonymously, of course! Maybe we should mark the grave somehow; it's nearly covered over already, at this rate it'll just disappear. We don't want James pissed again, do we?"

Dean smiled, sadly.

"Yeah, the last thing we need is to explain how we found him. You're right. We do need to mark it up, though, but I don't think James'll be causing any more trouble now that we've found his diary. I think he just wanted to let Evie know he hadn't just left her holding the bag when the shit hit the fan, back then. Hell, he just wanted her to know he still loved her."

He finished quietly, eyes downcast.

"I guess you're right. Just gimme a minute, I'll drag that big, ole fallen branch over."

Sam pulled the fleece around him, shivering as he stepped from the car.

Dean watched through the haze of snow, as Sam hauled the mistletoe-clad bough, sliding and stumbling, towards the disturbed mound of snow.

He winced at the icy blast of wind that followed Sam back through the door.

"Think that'll do?"

"Yeah, Sammy. That'll do just fine."

As he spoke, Dean reached out slipping the car into drive. Sam's restraining hand touched his arm and he paused.

"What?"

Dean glared at Sam's hand and, after a second or two, the younger Winchester released his grip.

"Are you really fit to drive, Dean? Can you even press the pedals?"

It was a reasonable observation but not one Dean appreciated, and his disgusted face told Sam as much.

"Like you really think I'm gonna let you drive my baby off of a haunted mountain in the middle of a snow storm?"

Sam shrugged, and then smiled as Dean revved the softly purring engine to a roar, just to show he could.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's get back to civilisation. See if there's any freakin' room at the Inn!"

Ends

So, Save 11 follows tomorrow. It's a fun one..well not for poor Dean! For him it's painful but then we like us a bit of Dean pain! Muuwahhaaaa! All reviews lovingly cherished.


	14. Chapter 14 Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindee

Okay, so here comes save number 11 and it's a 'deer', sweet little save! Well how could we leave Rudolph out of our Yuletide iconography?

**The Twelve Saves of Christmas**

Save 11 Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer

December 24th 4pm

Layers of powdery snow atop frozen, previous downfalls did nothing to make the going easy for the old Chevy and its exhausted passengers. The beat of the windscreen wipers became hypnotic and Dean found himself almost tempted to switch them off for fear he would fall asleep, lulled by their somnambulistic cadence. The thickly falling flakes prevented him, however, and soon, even though he was driving at a snail's pace, he found himself hunched forward nervously, trying to discern the road through the tiny space the wiper blades were able to clear.

The position pulled at the sore muscles in his back, strained as they were from hours of trying to keep the weight from his blown knee and broken toes, well that and juvenile tobogganing! His whole spine ached with the strain of just keeping him upright.

Sam risked a glance across at his brother and didn't like what he saw. Dean's posture was stiff with the pain that riddled his abused body and exhaustion he could not hide oozed from him toward his brother. Sam resumed his equally intense observation of the road before them as he spoke softly into the silence of the Impala's cabin.

"Dean..."

The elder Winchester started, his concentration so focussed that he had zoned out even Sam. The movement jarred his leg, and back, and throbbing foot, and he hissed in unwelcome, renewed pain.

"Hell, Sam. You scared the bejesus outta me!"

Fierce green eyes flashed momentarily at the contrite hunter.

"Sorry, bro. I was just gonna say maybe you should let me take over for a bit. Its hard work driving in this white out and, if you feel half as bad as you look, then you feel like total crap."

A dangerous glance flicked Sam's way.

"'M okay, Sammy."

Sam could hear his brother's pain even in those few words.

"Sure you are, Dean."

He snarked, irritated, that even knowing full well that he was in no fit state to drive Dean would not consider relinquishing the piloting of the Impala to Sam.

Dean heard the annoyance and risked another flick of his gaze towards his brother. He took in the younger Winchester's pout and rolled his eyes, knowing now he had a sulking baby brother as well as a full blown blizzard to contend with. _Happy freaking Holidays', Dean! _

_Maybe someone could throw him off a cliff into some spiky holly as well and his day would be complete? Oh no, wait! The Merry Christmas Hiker had already done that, hadn't he? _

Dean took a deep breath and went for situation de-escalation.

"Sam..."

Dean's voice was all placatory and soothing. But still elicited no response from sulk city!

"Sammy?"

A little more emphatic this time but all it warranted was a furious glance from beneath that ridiculously long hair.

Sam, it's not that I don't trust you, but..."

"What is it then, Dean?"

The petulance was at full pitch as Sam interrupted his dark, hazel eyes boring into Dean's green.

"Well, it's just...Holy shit!"

The stag hurtled from the trees to the right of the white'd out road and reared before the Impala as Dean fought to bring the heavy car to a halt in the slippery snow. The magnificent beast snorted, stamping and tossing its huge antlers at its fishtailing black adversary. It held its ground as the wide eyed driver fought for supremacy over the extreme weather conditions.

It was an enormous creature, sleek and well muscled and its russet coat shone against the silver of the moon.

Inside the Impala Dean wrenched every part of him, wrestling the wheel back and forth to try and control the skid as they careened towards the reindeer. His injuries screamed in protest and Sam braced for impact as the Impala hurtled towards the bucking beast.

Bracing himself, Dean jammed his left leg into the foot well of the Impala, pumping the breaks gently to try and get some speed reducing traction on the slippery road surface. The movement was red hot agony for his wrecked knee and he felt the sutures pulling on the friable wound edges as he pushed down, frantically turning the wheel to head the Impala into the skid and hopefully save them from major damage.

Sam watched the nose of the car gradually come round to point at the snow bank and knew there was no way they could avoid collision, but at least this way it was with something inanimate rather than the animal before them.

"Dean!"

He called out as he threw his arm out to try and hold his brother in his seat as they spun and slammed, side on, into the deeply banked snow, sending a crystalline cloud into the air.

wWw

When the world stopped skidding, Sam dragged himself from out of the Impala's foot well and back onto the bench seat, holding his elbow that ached from the bruising it had sustained in the reindeer induced crash. Everything was moving in slow motion, apart, that was, from his spinning head, and he rolled it stiffly on his whip lash sore shoulders as he spoke.

"Dean?"

No reply.

He looked across at his brother but all was dark in the car's interior as snow had engulfed the windows and all he could make out was Dean's vague bulk, hunched over the wheel. Fear rose like bile in Sam's gut.

"Dean!"

He reached a hand across and tried to ease Dean back from the steering column but he seemed caught and, even though he didn't open his eyes, he groaned softly. Sam's breathing hiked at that sound and his own injuries became irrelevant as his whole concentration shifted to his unconscious brother.

Sam realised he was at an angle, sliding down the seat towards the driver's side as the car's front end was pitched where it rode the snow bank. He wriggled round and pushed the door open, into the mounded snow, desperate to get out the car so he could get round to the driver's side and assess Dean's injuries before he moved him. The door jammed in the deep snow and Sam kicked at it, slamming it repeatedly against the drift until it gave enough to allow him to squeeze out.

He moved quickly round the back of the car, dimly away of the snorting of the deer somewhere to his side, and the distant murmur of voices, as he limped to the driver's door. None of that was important to him, however, as Dean's repeated moans of pain reverberated in his head.

He carefully cracked the driver's side and crouched beside the open door. Dean was slipped forward on the seat. His chest close up to the steering wheel and his right arm thrown onto the dashboard. His head was tucked down so the left side of his face was pressed to the wheel. He was quiet and unnervingly still.

"Dean?"

Sam spoke softly, the undercurrent of terror making his voice clipped, as he gently placed his hand on his brother's back and ran it up the borrowed sheepskin coat towards Dean's head. When the strong fingers reached the twisted neck the groans intensified and Sam felt Dean twitch beneath his hand.

"Dean? You hear me?"

Sam conscientiously supported his brother's spine as he tilted his head carefully back, finally allowing him to see Dean's face. Blood trickled from a deep gash over the elder Winchester's left eye, running down his cheek and neck to stain his T-shirt, and Sam rummaged in his pocket, pressing the handkerchief he found there to the gash.

"Unwh!"

Dean groaned and tried to jerk his head away as pressure made his forehead hurt worse, but he seemed to be clamped in a vice 'cause he was pinned in place. He pulled his eyes open, looking for the source of his confinement and instantly regretted it as the world span on its axis. Nausea tightened his belly.

"S...Sam..."

"Right here, bro."

Sam slipped his arms around his brother's body and eased him back from the wheel.

"You okay, Dean?"

Panic was plain to hear in Sam's voice and Dean tried to focus on his brother's face. Mistake! His head spun even more and he felt the nausea worsen.

"Sam...gonna... throw up. Get me out!"

Sam held Dean tighter, trying to reassure him as he looked into eyes totally disorientated by the crash.

"Can't move you yet, Dean."

Sam reasoned, as Dean trembled in his embrace.

"Don't know how bad you're hurt."

Dean turned a little so he could more easily meet Sam's gaze. Determination made his green eyes sparkle with flashes of fire.

"Sam...I am ...not ...puking in my baby! Get me... the hell out!"

Sam considered arguing but a none too gentle elbow in his ribs reassured him that Dean wasn't in immediate mortal peril.

"Okay, bro, hang on."

Sam eased Dean back on the seat, unfurling his long and damaged legs from the foot-well. Dean gasped as Sam lifted his feet to the snowy floor.

"Need me to stop?"

Sam's steadying hands rested on Dean's back and chest as Dean swayed from side to side on the seat.

"Nope! Need you to move my ass quicker, Sammy. Definitely gonna puke here!"

Sam nodded and taking Dean round the waist eased him from the car. As he had expected, Dean couldn't really stand and all Sam could do was support him as he bent over and threw up colourfully onto the virgin white.

wWw

Once he had finished, Sam helped Dean limp slowly back to the Impala. If he hadn't felt bad enough already, seeing his girl nose deep in a snow drift did very little to raise the older Winchester's festive spirits.

"Awh crap, Sammy. What did I do to her?"

Regret ran through Dean's words as Sam opened the rear door and carefully turned Dean so he could sit on the seat with his feet on the floor. Sam grabbed the first aid kit and crouched in front of his brother. Dimly, the babble of voices drifted to Sam again on the wind. He glanced in the direction of the barely discernable road but it turned a corner up ahead and he could see only a few yards ahead in the swirling snow. He turned his attention back to his bleeding brother.

The head wound was still trickling, and there was fresh blood on the sheepskin and the leg of Dean's jeans. The older man winced as Sam gently palpated the thigh wound and then rummaged in the kit for something clean to press to his brother's head.

"I think you've popped a couple of stitches here..."

Dean nodded weakly and Sam noted he was cradling his left hand into his body.

"Have you hurt your hand?"

Dean shook his head but did not release his grip.

"Lemme see..."

Dean acquiesced reluctantly, and the younger Winchester gently examined the softly trembling limb.

"Umm, I think you've dislocated your thumb here, bro."

Sam looked up into Dean's face and the tight pain lines etched there confirmed his suspicions.

"Can you put it back in?"

The elder Winchester's voice had lost all its power as he concentrated on dealing with each new emerging hurt.

Sam nodded, taking tight hold of Dean's wrist and the mal-positioned thumb.

"I guess you jammed it against the steering wheel?"

Sammy questioned, holding his brother's slightly slack gaze, trying to distract Dean from the unpleasantness to come. He watched as Dean went to answer and then wrenched the offending digit, with a practised efficiency, back into alignment.

"Uwwh!"

Dean grunted in pain, dragging his hand from Sam's and cradling it back into his body. The nausea rose once more and he closed his eyes, swallowing it down.

"You gonna chuck again?"

He felt Sam's warm hand against his back, stroking circles against his coat.

He kept his eyes closed but shook his head slightly. He sat for a moment allowing the nausea to slowly pass.

"I should have let you drive, Sammy..."

Wide green, guilt ridden eyes tugged at Sam's heart as he set about swabbing the blood away from the gash above Dean's eye.

"I was too tired, and I didn't listen to ya. Do ya know, I even thought I saw a damn great reindeer just before I pranged her? I must have been so out of it...I'm sorry, Sam. I should've known better. "

Sam couldn't help but smile stupidly as Dean babbled on.

"Ouch!"

He wriggled beneath Sam's big hand as Sam closed the wound with butterfly strips.

"That hurts."

Dean concentrated on his brother's face and was surprised to see a smile forming.

"What's so funny, Sammy?"

There was confusion and an edge of annoyance in Dean's question. Sam finished with the butterfly sutures and sat back on his heels in the snow. In the distance the sound of voices grew louder. Sam glanced back but still couldn't see anything.

"Sam!"

Dean's irritated voice called him back.

"You did."

Sam's smile intensified. Dean shook his head and regretted it as the world spun.

"Did what?"

"You did see a damned great reindeer, Dean."

Sam laughed at the look of consternation on his brother's bloody face, as he bandaged Dean's throbbing thumb.

"I did?"

Sam nodded and shifted to the side in the snow so Dean could get a clear view of the huge stag as it stamped in the snow over by the tree line.

"Well, I'll be damned..."

Dean put his hand to the side of his throbbing head as he watched the powerful animal toss its own head at the falling snow.

"I was beginning to think I'd imagined this whole thing, Sam..."

Dean rubbed his temple and shifted his other hand to his knee. In the distance flash-light beams rounded the corner in the road, accompanied by the voices they had been hearing.

"Sam..."

Dean's voice became business like with hunter's caution.

"I see them, Dean."

Sam was on his feet and had the sawn off in his hands in seconds, handing the second to Dean who remained seated where he was but did his best to look alert and dangerous.

The group of men approached noisily and the stag snorted as they drew level with him.

"Come here, Rudolph!"

The leader of the group lifted his hand and Sam and Dean braced, only to see that the man held nothing more threatening than a large carrot. The man clucked his tongue and the reindeer whickered and trotted dutifully towards the party.

"Rudolph?"

Dean's voice was incredulous as he looked up into Sam's amused face.

"Did he really say Rudolph, Sam?"

The stag was now nuzzling the pockets of the carrot proferrer, having munched the original morsel, as the well wrapped up man gently slipped a head collar onto the suddenly docile reindeer. The rest of the party approached Sam and Dean, their flashlights bathing the Impala in strobes of fairy lights.

"Good Evening."

The three men stayed some small distance from the two hunters, the Winchester's easy grip on their sawn offs encouraging caution.

"You boys in a bit of trouble?"

The middle man of the three who had approached them pushed down his parka hood and Sam was strangely unsurprised to see he was wearing a red Santa hat. Dean, on the other hand giggled, the headgear further stretching his incredulity at the turn of events.

"We heard you come off the road from round the bend and I said to Tom and Frank here that I hoped Rudolph hadn't run his dumb ass in front of ya vehicle."

He looked affectionately at the carrot munching stag as he spoke. His two companions also lowered their hoods as he spoke to reveal their similar Santa hats.

"He's a fierce looking thing..."

The deer had reached the group by this stage and he bobbed his collared head, nudging the man speaking as he petted the animal with obvious affection.

"But he's soft as butter really."

He found a carrot in his pocket and held it on his open palm as the reindeer delicately nibbled it.

"I raised him from a fawn. His mother got shot by hunter's and I hadn't the heart to leave him to die, so I hand reared him."

He smiled at the brother's as he spoke and Sam and Dean found themselves smiling in return at the man's pleasure in the animal.

"I'm Chris, by the way."

The man stepped forward and shook Sam's hand, before leaning down to take Dean's. The big man took in the blood and bandages decorating the elder Winchester's abused body.

"You look like you have been through the wars, son."

Chris's concerned face was so genuine that Dean found himself nodding.

"Had better days, Chris, but I'm fine."

The older man's eyes held Dean's for a moment, as if measuring him up and Dean shifted a little under the knowing gaze.

"Course you are, Dean."

He stood back up quickly and stepped back to Sam's side.

"Well, it's a good job you didn't come barrelling round that corner anyway. Heck Rudi here..."

He petted the creature's neck affectionately.

"He did you a favour. Probably saved you, all things considered."

Sam looked quizzically at Dean who twitched an eyebrow as if to say 'what the hell is he talking about' and then regretted it as the motion pulled on the hastily patched gash.

"A favour, Chris?"

Sam enquired.

"You'll see!"

The older man laughed, clapping Sam heartily on the back.

"So, if we get your girl here outta this drift you reckon she'll run?"

He met Dean's eyes as he pointed to the Impala and Dean nodded enthusiastically.

"No question about it."

"I thought as much."

Chris responded confidently as he eyed Dean up once more.

"Son, I know no one really ever drives her but you but I suggest you stay put in the back there. That leg looks sore..."

He glanced knowingly at Dean's swollen, blood stained knee.

"And you've had quite a bang on the head there and I take it that's a busted thumb?"

"Dislocated..."

Sam corrected as Dean scowled unhappily.

"So, what you say you give this brother of yours a treat and let him drive while me and the Knights get her offa this snow bank?"

The big man's demeanour was sympathetic of Dean's distress, so much so that he found himself agreeing amicably.

"Sure, Chris. I guess that makes sense."

"Good, good boy!"

Chris' smile widened.

"Well then. First things first. Let's get ya settled..."

The men moved around the car and in minutes had eased Dean full length onto the back seat of the Impala. He was propped with pillows and blankets that he didn't recognise and that had materialised from wherever their new companions hailed from, around the corner, and Sam was settled in the driver's seat of the Impala as the men-and one reindeer-pulled them out of the drift.

wWw

"So, Sam."

Chris's arm rested on the open window as he spoke, his ruddy face peering into the car.

"Follow us round the bend and take it steady as you get there and then you can help us with the little situation in the road. Okay?"

Sam nodded.

"Will do."

"You okay back there, Dean? Warm enough?"

Dean raised his head from the soft pillows.

"I'm good thanks, Chris."

The older man smiled.

"Okay steady as you go, Sam."

Chris clapped Sam on the back and turned to join his companions at the front of the car and the unusual procession set off around the bend.

wWw

"Sam?"

Sam glanced in the rear view mirror, into his brother's somewhat bemused eyes as he concentrated on the road before him.

"Yeah, Dean? You okay? You in pain?

Dean shook his head and then ruined the moment by having to put a hand to his temple as it throbbed unmercifully.

"Nah. I'm good."

Sam was unconvinced but said nothing.

"You know when Chris offered to get the Impala off the snow bank?"

Dean found Sam's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"Yeah?"

Sam slowed as he approached the bend in the road.

"Did he say that he and the 'Knights' would get her outta the snow?"

Reminded of the conversation, Sam thought back and reviewed the detail.

"Umm, yup. He did indeed, Dean."

Sam mused, watching his brother's eyes in the glass.

"I thought he did."

Silence ensued for a few seconds as each Winchester chewed over the information. Then Dean spoke again.

"So, Sam. Just what the hell are the 'Knights' then?"

"You got me, Dean. You got me!"

wWw

They rounded the bend in the road and the day that had been getting odder and odder as the hours passed suddenly lapsed into the full on surreal.

Across the road was a huge tree, heavy with a weight of snow that had clearly been downed by the storm. It had blocked the road on the blind bend, and had Dean not been stopped by the unanticipated appearance of the stag, he would likely have ploughed, at speed, straight into it.

Well, that wasn't totally accurate. He would actually have ploughed into their recently acquainted Santa's sleigh that was atop the flat bed truck, which was halted just before the tree barricade. The sleigh was full of the presents, gold, frankincense, myrrh and other trinkets that had littered the stable and was accompanied by the animals that they had also made friends with back at their temporary shelter.

The truck carrying the animals was parked to the side of the sleigh lorry and two more of the Santa hatted 'knights' were feeding them hay.

"Well, I'll be..."

Sam declared as he grinned at the rear Winchester in the driver's mirror, and Dean tutted in annoyance.

"What was that for?"

Sam enquired as he drew the Impala to a stop at the roadside where Chris stood waiting.

"Nothing..."

Dean mumbled, grumpily as Sam killed the engine and swivelled to look at his swaddled sibling.

"Come on, Dean."

Sam cajoled happily.

"Why the face?"

Dean screwed up his nose a little but it made his gashed head hurt so he stopped.

"Come on bro, what gives?"

Sam kept pushing and Dean finally snapped out in a rush.

"You keep saying 'Well, I'll be!' and it's freaking me out!"

Sam grinned widely at his amazing brother. After all they had seen, experienced, lived through over the last 48 hours, hell no, throughout their entire bizarre lives, and the thing that freaked Dean out was Sam saying 'well, I'll be!'

"You are weird, Dean. You know that, don't you?"

Sam laughed as he spoke, his warm, dark eyes alive with good humour.

"Weird beyond measure!"

Dean smiled, and raised his bandaged hand to his bruised face as it turned to a groan.

"Don't make me smile, Sammy. It hurts!"

The tapping on the window heralded the arrival of Chris and Sam opened the door and stepped out into the still steady falling, fat flakes of snow. He left the door open so Dean could hear the conversation from his rear seat 'nest'.

"So boys, see what I mean about Rudi saving you from a potentially nasty altercation with the tree there?"

He thumbed towards the tree over his shoulder as he spoke, bending at the waist to make eye contact with Dean as he did. The elder Winchester nodded his understanding of the situation as Chris looked back to Sam. He tried to ignore the squirming from beneath Chris' coat.

"Yeah, we see, Chris. I guess it was a blessing that Rudolph..."

Sam had to pause to suppress the giggle that threatened to emerge when he said the reindeer's so ironic name.

"That Rudolph came along when he did."

Sam smiled their gratitude at the Santa-hatted man as sniggers of laughter drifted from the back seat of the Chevy.

"Umm...Chris?"

Sam continued.

"If it's not being nosey, why are you guys out here with the whole sleigh, reindeer, camel deal...on Christmas Eve and all..?"

Sam tailed off, suddenly concerned that for some reason he shouldn't, maybe, question the situation.

Chris looked from Sam to the scene before him and back again and his eyes crinkled with mirth.

"I guess it does look a trifle bizarre, Sam. Now that you mention it."

"Oh, ya think!"

Dean's amused voice drifted from the rear of the car and both Chris and Sam crouched by the open car door so they could see the older Winchester's grinning face.

"Need an explanation, huh boy?"

"Only if you want to, Chris. We are getting sorta used to Bethlehem directing our path without really understanding exactly why. "

Chris nodded slowly.

"Yeah, this is a place of wonder, isn't it?"

He paused, and Dean found himself momentarily lost in the depth of his intense blue eyes.

wWw

"Chris!"

The shout came from the group of Santa hats that scurried about by the fallen tree and beside Sam, Chris rose to his feet.

"Yeah, Frank? What is it?"

He called into the wind and the originator of the shout detached himself from the group and jogged over to the car.

He nodded to the boys and then addressed his colleague.

"There's no way we can move her. She's just too heavy. If'n we could get a few branches off her and lighten the load then Claude..."

Chris sensed Sam's gaze and looked at him.

"Claude?"

Sam asked.

"The camel."

Chris supplied by way of explanation. Sam nodded and Dean chuckled as he made kissing gestures with his full lips at his brother. A soft bleating emanated from Chris's coat and he laid a gentle hand on his chest, stilling the distress.

"Claude and Rudi could likely drag her offa the road, but we ain't got an axe nor nothing."

Chris' forehead creased in frustration.

"And we need to be in town by midnight to hand out the gifts. Dammit!"

He kicked at the mounded snow at his feet, taking out his frustration on the drift. When he raised his eyes again, he found Sam's confused face. Some explanation was called for he could see.

"Sam..."

He bobbed his head to Dean's level.

"Dean, we are the Knights of Bethlehem. We are a charitable organisation that looks to the welfare of some of the poorest of Bethlehem. We collect all year and on Christmas Eve we go out and distribute the gifts we have collected."

"In the sleigh..."

Dean called and they stooped again.

"Exactly, Dean. Hence the sleigh...and the reindeer."

Dean nodded.

"And the hats!"

Chris lifted his hand to his red hat and smiled.

"Yes, and the hats, Dean."

Sam chipped in.

"And you were storing the gear in the stables a way back?"

Chris quirked an eyebrow.

"Frank's old stable, back towards South Mountain? You were there?"

Sam nodded as Dean answered sheepishly.

"We spent the night there. Thought we'd fallen into Santa's grotto!"

Chris laughed, clapping his hand delightedly on Sam's shoulder.

"Haha. I bet you did. We store the gear there throughout the year and then use the space to prep her up for the big event. The animals come in from the 'Star of Wonder'-petting zoo where they live during the year, a couple of days before Christmas Eve."

Silence reigned for a few moments as the brothers took in the now totally plausible explanation. Finally Dean's voice cut the quiet.

"Umm, Chris? I kinda think we owe you an explanation."

He pulled self-consciously at the stolen sheepskin and continued on in a rush, guilty that they had taken stuff destined for such a worthy cause.

"See, we were hungry and we found the coffee and soup and it was cold..."

Chris held up his hand, silencing the babbling Winchester.

"I wondered if it was you boys who had been there. You were more than welcome to the food boys. It was just the remnants of the supplies we have our there to keep out spirits up as we prep the sleigh. Oh and the coats were old ones that we keep out there for if it turns real cold and seeing as it's still pretty warm for this time of year, you are welcome to those too."

Dean nodded, relieved.

"And I saw the $40 that you left for the candy you ate, too. That'll go into next year's collection so it's all good."

He smiled and Dean felt the knot in his stomach untie. Somehow, this man's good opinion was important, even though they had known him for only moments.

"One more question, Chris?"

Sam looked at Dean as Chris's nod gave him permission to ask.

"The goat?"

Chris looked in to the back seat, finding Dean's wide green eyes. The elder Winchester pointed with his wrapped hand at the bulge on Chris' chest. The Santa hated man smiled and reached the top button of his parka and opened it carefully, allowing a familiar little black and white head to emerge. The little creature bleated delightedly and rubbed her face against Chris's.

"She's mine. I raise sheep and goats, my family business. She's a runt so I'm hand rearing her."

Dean smiled delightedly as he spoke. Happy to see his little bed fellow again.

"You herd sheep?

Chris rubbed the little goat's ears as he replied.

"Sure do, well apart from the whole sleigh thing at Christmas, I'm a humble sheep herder. Why? You took a shine to her, Dean?"

Dean blustered in embarrassment as Sam laughed.

"The grandkids love her, too. Call her Bambi. She has a real calming effect on Rudi and he can get het up before his big night, so I let her go to the stables and stay with him."

Frank's soft clear of his throat jolted Chris back to the matter in hand.

"Ah, yeah."

Chris stood and looked at his apologetic companion.

"The little matter if the tree, eh Frank?"

Dean's voice emanated from the back seat.

"Umm, Chris? Might be able to help you there."

All three men bent to observe the prone Winchester, hoping for a wise solution to the arboreal problem.

"Would a chain-saw help?"

Sam slapped the heel of his hand to his forehead, laughing.

"Way to go, bro!"

He jogged to the trunk and seconds later returned holding the small petrol driven saw that they had secreted with their other weaponry.

"Why would two innocent looking boys like you have a chain-saw in the trunk of your car?"

Chris's eyes sparkled as he asked the question and Dean's matched them as he responded.

"Well Chris, it's no stranger than being out on a snowy Christmas Eve with a goat up your jacket!"

wWw

They made quick work of the tree once the chainsaw was ripped to life and Sam soon found himself returning the machine to its rightful place alongside the other paraphernalia of death and subjugation that the Impala's boot held. To his side, Chris raised an eyebrow as he handed the re-filled gas can to Sam and watched him stow it away, but to his credit he asked for no explanation.

They closed the trunk and stepped back to the side of the old Chevy as Sam opened the driver's door and peeked inside.

Dean was asleep on the backseat; Bambi curled quietly to his side, her head resting gently on his bandaged hand. His face was pale and drawn with pain and Sam felt his chest tighten as he looked on.

'_Why do we never get a regular, peaceful Christmas? Why does the festive spirit always result in one or other of us banged up and hurting?'_

Chris's hand startled him as it landed softly on his shoulder.

"That man needs some rest."

Sam nodded, his own weariness suddenly striking him.

"He sure does."

The young hunter's voice was soft with exhaustion.

"You both do."

Wise old eyes held Sam's.

"Got some hurts to heal, I think."

Sam closed his eyes as tears suddenly pricked. Chris leaned into the backseat of the car and gently retrieved little Bambi. She nuzzled against him as he slipped her back into his coat.

Sam slid behind the wheel as Chris quietly closed the Impala's door. It squeaked noisily and the big man's eyes fled to Dean. He did not wake, just mumbled in his sleep and pulled the blanket closer about him. Chris looked to Sam for explanation.

"The car is home to us, Chris. That noise is like a lullaby to Dean."

Chris smiled in sad understanding.

"So, you remember how to get to the diner? I'm almost sure it'll be open still. Pretty much every Christmas Eve since the mill crashed there have been lost souls to feed, and they have always known they would be welcome at the diner on the Holidays."

Sam turned the ignition and the Impala growled her way to life.

"I think I can find it, Chris. Well hell, I guess nothing else much will be open this time of night on Christmas Eve, and once Dean gets within a few miles of food he'll be far more alert."

"Hey!"

A sleepy voice drifted from the mound of blankets on the back seat.

"In the room here!"

Exhausted green eyes glanced at Sam.

"We good to go?"

Dean sat up a little nodding, pain etched on his face as he did.

"You hungry?"

Sam asked and on cue Dean's stomach rumbled. He reached for the door handle smiling as they watched.

"What are you doing, Dean?"

"Gonna drive, Sammy. It's treacherous and ..."

"Oh no!"

Sam spun in his seat to stare at this older sibling.

"You're in no state to drive and we're gonna be following Chris's truck with its plough on the front, anyway."

Dean looked at Chris for confirmation. The bobble on his Santa hat wobbled as he nodded earnestly.

"Okay..."

Dean allowed as Sam sighed in relief but still he opened the rear door.

"But even if I don't drive, I wanna sit up front."

He moved to slide his injured leg off the seat and couldn't help the gasp of pain that slipped from his lips. Sam was on his knees in an instant and reaching over the back of the seat, placed a restraining hand on his brother's chest.

"Dean. Please just stay put! Your knee is too beat up for you to be walking any more than you have to."

Dean raised his head, his breath coming in little pants, and his eyes brimming with tears.

"But...I wanna sit...up front, Sam!"

He gasped.

"Lemme help ya, Dean."

Chris said quietly as he walked round to the rear passenger door and opened it wide. He leaned in and gently placed his hand on the elder Winchester's shoulder,

"You ready, Son?"

His wise blue eyes held Dean's for a second or two as Sam looked on, and Dean nodded.

"On three?"

The big man carefully slid Dean towards him and lifted the hunter as if he were a child, into his safe arms.

"The door, Sam!"

He called as he straightened and Sam scrambled over and pushed the front passenger door open. Chris lowered Dean to the seat as Sam ensured his brother's worst injured leg was laid out on the bench seat.

It took a moment of two for Dean's breathing to return to normal, Chris crouching with his hand against the elder Winchester's back until he settled. He closed the door and shook Sam's hand as he leaned across Dean through the passenger window.

"Thank you, Chris."

Sam smiled warmly at the ruddy faced man.

"My pleasure, Sam. Have a Merry Christmas."

"W...We...will."

Dean wheezed, as Chris rose and Sam pulled the car into the snow and Chris laughed out loud as

"And God bless us, everyone!"

Echoed from the car.

Ends.

The final save, save twelve starts tomorrow...but gee the boys have chattered on again so we are splitting it up into two, mince pie sized chapters. Hope you don't mind.


	15. Chapter 15 A Christmas Delivery

So here is the first part of the final save. We have split the chapter because it got a bit too long! Gee those boys do chatter so! So there will be this part and then the rest of Save 12 tomorrow.

There will also be an epilogue on Saturday that will announce the sequel. We decided some of the characters here deserved a longer airing!

Thanks to all of you who have reviewed the story, you guys rock. Oh and to C1, we haven't been able to reply to your lovely reviews as you have no reply URL but thanks for your kind words, they have been just awesome.

So the boys are off to the diner for some well deserved food and to make an important Christmas delivery.

**The Twelve Saves of Christmas**

Save 12 A Christmas Delivery

December 25th 2am

As was usual with Dean, it was not the motion or the noise of the Impala that woke him but the sudden cessation of her reassuring purr that stirred him from his uncomfortable sleep. He sighed as he opened his eyes. Well one eye if he was honest; the other still swollen partially closed for his earlier, Rudolph induced altercation with the steering wheel.

With wakefulness came a re-emergence of pain and, before he could call it back, his sigh became a soft groan. He risked a surreptitious galnce at Sam to see if his brother had registered the noise and, seeing that he had, attempted a reassuring smile.

The younger man's eyes were firmly on him and so Dean tried to make a good show of not feeling like he'd been kicked repeatedly by a tinsel-bedecked, Yuletide mule. Which, when he thought about it, was actually one of the few things that that hadn't injured him recently. Unfortunately, Sam's expression as he perused Dean's bruised face and stiff, sore movements told him it was a poor attempt.

"We're here."

Sam's voice was sympathetic of his brother's discomfort, as he pointed out of the windscreen to the well-lit building before them.

"And here... would... be...where exactly, Sammy?"

Dean struggled breathlessly to sit a little more upright on the seat, and took in the shiny diner frontage.

"The Star of Bethlehem Diner..."

Dean read slowly, as the myriad Christmas lights twinkled before them.

"How come they're still open, Sam?"

Dean squinted with his one good eye at his watch, knowing it was well past midnight and wondering why the little diner had remained open this late on Christmas Eve. Or early on Christmas morning, depending on your perspective.

"Chris told me that the owner welcomes in those who are down on their luck every Christmas Eve. Has done for years, apparently. Never advertises it, but it's well known in the area that anyone can get a good meal here on the holidays, irrespective of who they are."

Dean pursed his lips thoughtfully as he incrementally straightened against the cracked leather of the Chevy's bench seat. He had to be careful not to press down with his sore hand as he levered himself upright, as his newly re-located thumb was throbbing like a sonofabitch.

In fact, each small movement jarred his momentarily quiescent knee, sutured leg, broken toes and bruised face too, and he sucked in his breath around the pain of each of his 'Christmas presents'.

"That's a pretty cool thing to do, Sam."

Dean observed quietly as distant strains of Christmas carols drifted to them from the inviting looking diner.

"Yeah, I thought so too."

They took in the building for a moment or two longer; listening to the music, as Sam quietly allowed his brother to get his gently hiccupping breathing under control.

"So, if you're hungry, I reckon we could go get something to eat?"

Sam broke their silence, smiling as he anticipated Dean's answer. It was like asking if Niagara Falls was wet and, despite his injuries, the elder Winchester's face lit up with pleasure.

"Sam, I could eat a whole freaking reindeer, hooves and all!"

wWw

Getting Dean out of the car so they could go eat was quite a challenge as almost any movement put pressure on one of his myriad wounds. Added to that he was stubbornly adamant that he could manage his own exit from the Impala and kept swatting away Sam's attempts to help him, much to his younger brother's frustration.

"For god's sake, Dean. At this rate it'll be Easter before we get inside! "

Sam spat the words into the frosty night as he stood beside the passenger door, watching Dean try, yet again, to move his bandaged leg out of the car. Each bend of the swollen knee saw the dishevelled hunter gasping, and even though it was below freezing with a significant wind chill, sweat beaded Dean's pale, bruised face.

"Well if you'd brought my crutch, Sasquatch!"

Dean glowered at his brother as he rubbed absently at his bandaged leg.

"Dean. You're not even outta the car yet. You couldn't have used the crutch inside the Impala."

Sam reasoned infuriatingly and Dean was about to spit back when he noticed how Sam, despite his 'borrowed' sheepskin, was shaking with the cold. Guilt assailed him instantly. There he was, in the relative warmth of the cars interior while Sam stood waiting for him in the sub zero temperature. Contrition fuelled his movements and he stuck his arm outta the car towards his shuddering sibling.

"Well, maybe if you helped me here, instead of just admiring my courageous attempts to join you."

Dean's flushed face morphed into a grin as he spoke and Sam harumpfd good-naturedly as he hauled him carefully from the smooth seat to his less than stable legs.

"Admiring your courageous attempts, my ass!"

Sam grumbled, holding Dean tight as he swayed significantly in his embrace.

"Un-huh."

Dean gasped breathlessly.

"Feel free...to admire...that too, Sammy. After all, it is Christmas... and I'm told frequently that it's a fine, fine ass!"

wWw

The diner was not busy, but a few remaining customers still occupied the booths and stools as Sam half carried Dean into the brightly lit restaurant. The brothers' sudden arrival brought with it a blast of cold air from the outside and a number of the patrons looked toward the door, curious to see who would join them so late this Christmas Eve.

They were a characterful bunch. Each lined face and stained item of clothing no doubt the precursor to an interesting life story. The fact was, however, that none of them had, been asked for that story this night. They came here safe in the knowledge that they were whoever they wanted to be, or not be, as was necessary.

No. This night, in this diner, they were simply welcomed guests for a festive repast.

wWw

"So, boys. Can I get you something to eat? You look like you could use it."

The 'waitress' was a beautiful woman; tall and distinctly elegant, despite her black pants and understated T-shirt being covered with an apron which bore the picture of a turkey, with a shotgun, and the epithet "Kill Tofu Not Turkey!"

As Dean regarded her he felt the warmth of the diner suffuse him. It was not the warmth of the heaters or the stove in the kitchen, but the warmth she exuded.

"We sure could, Ma'am."

Dean was smiling as he spoke for them both. It was one of those smiles that Sam rarely saw nowadays. It was unguarded and allowed the recipient to see beyond the danger that emanated from Dean Winchester, the hunter. Sam nodded in agreement as the woman looked up at him, returning their smiles.

"You'll be best over here, I think."

She turned and gestured to the rear of the diner, her gaze on Dean as he swayed against Sam, his legs trembling with the effort of holding himself upright.

"It's a bigger booth, and you can put that leg up."

As if on cue, a spasm of pain shot through Dean's injured knee, and despite Sam's support, he could not stop the yelp that accompanied it.

"That'd f...feel...real good."

He gasped softly, his eyes watering as he bit down on the muscle cramps coursing through his damaged limbs.

"Come, let's get you settled."

She turned and moved through the diner as Sam tiredly hoisted Dean a little higher and followed her. She was in her fifties, Sam decided, as her hair was silver but it was cropped into a young style that suited her and her bright, blue eyes danced with life as she ushered then to a booth near to the kitchen.

"Can you manage him?"

Her voice was compassionate and she took Dean's free arm before Sam could brush her off, seeing that the supporter of this pair was near to his limit, too. She took some of the load and together she and Sam helped Dean the last few steps.

"You look like you have been through the wars."

It was a sympathetic statement, not a demand for explanation or a judgement of them and, seeing that Dean had no breath left to speak, Sam answered for them both as they reached the booth.

"Yeah, we kinda have, Ma'am."

"So..."

She looked at Dean and gestured to the long red leather bench seat of the booth.

"I thought you could slide on here and stretch your leg out?"

Dean glanced at the comfortable looking seating and nodded, knowing that if he didn't sit soon he would fall anyway.

"Good!"

She smiled and looked the pair of them over with a practised eye.

"I suggest that you..."

She looked up into Sam's eyes, her quirked brow questioning.

"What can I call ya, son?"

"Sam."

The smiling hunter offered.

"Sam?"

She beamed at him testing out the name and liking it.

"So, Sam, if you hold onto...your brother..?"

Sam's gaze flicked from hers to Dean's, checking out his brother's comfort at answering the question. An exhausted blink of an eye affirmed Dean's agreement and Sam nodded again, confirming her suspicions.

"Yeah. My brother, Dean."

Sam offered as he unconsciously tightened his protective grip on his injured sibling. Somehow he was unsurprised that her intuition had led her to conclude that they were brothers. There was something about her, not threatening in any way, but knowing, and he could sense Dean felt it too.

"Pleasure to meet you, boys."

Her gaze came back to Dean's sleepy, green eyes and she realised that she had been let in further than these boys normally allowed strangers. She felt privileged but had the sense not to make a big deal of it.

"So, Dean. Let's get your coat off, you'll be warm enough here by the kitchen without that, and then we can get you settled and fed."

It was a simple statement belying the complicated manoeuvre that accompanied it. It took a good few minutes, involved a number of softly muttered curses, and had all three of them sweating with the exertion before Dean was finally ensconced, his legs stretched out before him in the booth.

"You okay, Dean?"

She took in the bloodstains, old and fresh, as she spoke and the tremble that his struggle against the pain had caused. Here was a man who life treated harshly. She didn't need to know why but, for this one night, she would do all she could to help.

Dean opened his eyes and bit down on the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He was so tired. Getting from the Impala to the booth had felt like running a marathon. A marathon on broken toes at that!

"'Mfine...thank you."

It was a whisper, and every inch of his battered body told her he was anything but fine. However, she understood that 'face' was everything to this man and did not labour the point.

"Well, course you are and hungry as a horse too, I hope."

She grinned, clapping her hand on Sam's back.

"So, I'll get you boys some coffee to start with. Black for you, Dean and Sam..?"

She eyed him up as he shed his coat and slid onto the seat across from his brother. Exhaustion oozed from the younger man, too, and her heart went out to these two who had the woes of the world evidently placed on their young shoulders.

"A latte, maybe?"

She took Sam's coat from him to join Dean's, already in her arms.

"No, on reflection, a hot chocolate I think."

Sam smiled at the thought of hot, sweet, steaming chocolate. It made his cold, damp toes curl with pleasure and the thought lit up his dark eyes.

"That'd be just wonderful."

She turned for the kitchen.

"Good! I'll be right back and then we'll get you some food."

"Thank you."

Sam called as he watched her move away between the tables, towards the kitchen. She smiled at all the diners as she passed them. Exchanging a word here, patting a shoulder there. Sam looked across at Dean to find his brother equally transfixed by this understated woman.

She stopped to lift an empty plate from before a scruffily dressed man with furtive eyes. His clothes were dirty and way too big for him and his skin was pale as desert sand. His arms where they hung from his tattered T-shirt sleeves, were riddled with track marks. Sam looked back to his face and saw that, beneath the dirt and pallor he was, in reality, likely no older than Dean.

"How you doing, Toby?"

She held his twitching gaze as she spoke, her face deliberately neutral and unthreatening. The man looked at her, his face guarded, unsure of her motives. This was not a man given to easy trust.

"You want another piece of pie?"

She tipped her chin at his empty plate. He shook his head, though his eyes said yes.

"I've already had two."

She nodded seriously.

"Well, it'll only get wasted if you don't eat it..."

She held their gaze until he smiled, a shy smile that made him look suddenly much younger.

"It is good pie this year, Ma'am. Better even maybe than last year's, I'd say."

She smiled.

"Well I'll tell Chas that, Toby. He'll be real pleased to know he's surpassed himself. Pastry is a speciality of his."

She started towards the kitchen as she spoke.

"You could manage one more piece maybe, then?"

Sam watched the man's face light up.

"Well, if you're sure it's okay. I don't want to take anyone else's..."

She turned back to face him.

"I don't think many more folks'll be by this year, Toby. Most of ya have done."

She gestured to the few remaining diners and the empty dessert plates before them.

"And there's plenty for these two gents."

Her hand waved towards Sam and Dean in the corner booth.

"So, I'm gonna bring ya another piece to take with ya. Okay?"

Toby nodded.

"That'd be real nice, Ma'am."

He called to her retreating back.

"Real nice!"

wWw

"This is quite some place you found us, Sammy."

Dean mused as he settled back against the soft upholstery. The warmth of the place, the delicious smells of baking bread, roasting meat and pie assailed him as he finally relaxed and Sam smiled as he watched some of the tension he always carried, leave his brother's face.

"I know. Chris said it was quite a set up but I don't think I really, fully understood what he meant till we got here."

Dean tilted his head toward Sam, knowing there was something else he wasn't saying.

"Why? What exactly did the big guy say?"

Sam smiled in slight embarrassment.

"He said that the people at the diner had 'the Spirit of Christmas' about them."

He met his big brother's gaze, expecting to see scepticism there but was surprised by its absence.

"Maybe so, Sam."

Dean grinned as he responded.

Their drinks arrived momentarily and their waitress unloaded the steaming mugs onto the table top before the grateful hunters. Dean raised the dark, aromatic brew to his dry lips and carefully sipped the scalding liquid. The essence of Java danced on his willing tongue whilst the passion of a coffee bean addict dilated his eyes.

"Ummm! That's good."

He murmured orgasmically, as the onlookers laughed at his obvious pleasure.

"Here."

She held a small tea towel wrapped bundle towards Dean and he set down the mug and reached forward to take it. It was cold against his blistered fingers. He looked quizzically at the waitress.

"Ice pack."

She pointed at his bruised temple.

"Might help with your head-ache."

Understanding dawned and he raised the bundle gingerly to his head.

"Now, we have turkey and all the trimmings, or if you don't like that, Chas, our guest chef, will rustle you up a burger or something. The turkey's good though."

She looked at Sam first.

"Turkey for me, Ma'am."

He said enthusiastically as her gaze slid to Dean. Before he could answer though she leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Don't worry, Hon, I won't make you eat the vegetables."

Dean laughed.

"Turkey sounds good to me, too."

She nodded happily, her eyes sparkling.

"Two turkey dinners it is then!"

wWw

The meal was every bit as delicious as they had been led to believe it would be, and as they ate the brothers watched as, one by one, their fellow diners finished their repast and left. No one left empty handed, they noted. Some took blankets, one thanked her for the 'new', second-hand boots he now wore, and all carried away brown paper sacks with sandwiches and pie and the invitation to return again next year.

"So, you boys finished?"

She looked from their scraped clean plates to Dean with a wicked twinkle in her eye.

"Um! Ate your veggie's too? You'll be wanting some pie, then?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Dean smiled, his emerald eyes gently holding her sparkling blue.

She reached to collect the plates and Dean leaned forward to pass his up to her. His knee cracked loudly as the swollen joint grated with the sudden motion. The plate dropped from his hands to crash on the table as he clutched at the offending limb.

"Crap!"

He ground the curse out between gritted teeth as Sam reached over the table to steady him in his seat. Fiery motes of light danced before his dilated eyes as he hugged his knee, rocking against the lancing pain. He felt hands touch his leg and knew they were not Sam's.

"Don't..."

He gasped dragging his eyes open.

"Hurts..."

She was crouched at his feet, her careful hands gently investigating the heavily bandaged leg.

"I can see that, Dean."

Her strong but gentle hands probed at the dressings and Dean hissed in pain. She looked up into his dilated eyes.

"Do you need to go to hospital?"

Dean shook his head and she frowned, turning her gaze to Sam. Sam knew Dean needed care but he also knew how much he hated hospitals. They were the one place that filled his otherwise courageous brother with dread. He would do anything to save him from that fear if he could.

"He doesn't like hospitals."

Sam said by way of explanation, and was surprised to see a wealth of understanding in her face. She looked back at Dean and watched him slowly get his racing breathing under control. Her face softened.

"No, lots of my regulars don't, Sam. Hospital, or anywhere where control is taken from them."

She patted Dean's leg knowingly.

"Well okay then. I'll just get Chas."

She stood and a look that brooked no debate settled on her face. Sam glanced quizzically at his brother, but Dean was too busy being breathless with residual pain and merely shook his head in confusion.

"Chas..? Your chef?"

She nodded.

"He was a medic, Sam. When he was in the forces. He's patched up many of my Christmas guests. Sort of one of the Yuletide services we offer, I guess."

Sam absorbed the information. He knew Dean's wounds were not life threatening but he also know his brother was hurting. He pressed his hand to Dean's chest, holding him steady in his seat and was rewarded with a wide-eyed glance.

"What do you say, Dean?"

The elder Winchester shook his head and opened his mouth to speak. The pressure from Sam's restraining hand, stopping him.

"Don't say you're fine, dude, 'cause I know you're not."

Sam shook his head, his tousled locks swinging as he held Dean's un-focussed eyes.

"What harm can it do? He might be able to make it hurt less."

Dean coughed a little as his breathing began to settle. He could see the desire in Sam's eyes for him to relent. He glanced at their companion. Her eyes were filled with compassion.

"Chas is good, Dean."

He let his head loll back against the red leather of the booth's seatback. It was two to one and he knew that he was gonna lose.

"If...I say...yes..."

Dean gasped softly, sensing another Christmas 'save' in the offing.

"Do...I get...pie?"

They laughed in relief and she stood, making quickly for the kitchen before he could change his mind.

"Two pies and one medic coming up!"

wWw

She placed a huge portion of pie before each Winchester and, pulling herself a chair up to the end of the booth, sat facing the brothers.

"Chas'll be a few minutes. He's just turning the ovens off."

The boys nodded and she noted the look of trepidation on Dean's face. He was anticipating pain to come she could tell, and she couldn't lie and tell him it would be fine as she figured he was likely much more experienced in these matters than she was. He had a look about him that said he was no stranger to injury and she found herself curious about these two men. But she had a mantra. Ask them no questions.

It had meant that her diners returned year on year because they trusted her. She would not break it now.

She looked up and found beautiful emerald eyes watching her intently. The older man's gaze cut through her somehow, and she stuttered out the first thing she could think of to cover her disquiet.

"How's the pie?"

The question hung in the room and Sam, watching the interface between her and his brother, stepped in to diffuse the situation.

"It's real good, Ma'am."

He said kindly and she grimaced

"You don't have to call me ma'am all the time, Sam. My name is..."

Before she could continue she felt Dean's hand touch hers. She looked up to see his face pale suddenly. His breathing rate rocketed again and she glanced to the kitchen calling for Chas, worried his pain had worsened.

"Evie..."

Dean squeezed her hand hard, leaning forward towards her despite the fire flaring in his leg at the motion.

"Your name is Evie."

Ends.


	16. Chapter 16 Save 12 O Holy Night

Well everyone, here is Save 12, the final save of Christmas. Thank you to everyone who has read, and especially those who have reviewed. It's been lovely to read your kind words.

There will be an epilogue over the weekend, rounding off this one and announcing the follow on story. We hope that will start posting in the next few weeks and hope to see some of you again for that one.

Thanks to Kripke for the loan of the beautiful boys and to Kirsty for beta-ing us (The Comma Killers!) Sorry Kirst!

**The Twelve Saves of Christmas**

Save 12 O Holy Night

December 25th 2.30am

Evelyn Tannenbaum smiled sadly as she nodded, squeezing Dean's hand in return.

"No one has called me Evie for years."

Memories assailed her.

"Not since..."

She hesitated, her eyes distant as she remembered.

"Not since James."

The man said as he moved to stand defensively beside his friend, Evie, placing his hand on her shoulder so she would know he was there. Chas had known Evie since he had come to Bethlehem, fresh from the horrors of war and she had looked after him then as he looked after her now.

The boys looked up and took in the chef's regalia, complete with Santa hat.

"Hi, Charles."

Dean croaked out as he recognised the flirtatious desk clerk from the Holy Night Inn. The protective gastronome did not relax his stance but his mouth quirked a little.

"Mr 'Cringle' isn't it?"

He cocked an eyebrow disbelievingly and Sam laughed.

"Sam..."

He glanced at his brother who still leaned painfully forward holding Evie's hand.

"And my brother, Dean."

The short man nodded at them both.

"And you know Evelyn, how?"

His defence of her resonated in his words and Sam understood his need to protect this fascinating woman.

"We don't really, Charles."

Sam paused, suddenly realising he had no real explanation for Dean's recognition of the hiker ghost's wife. There was nothing to alert Dean to her identity and yet when he spoke her name Sam had heard absolute certainty in his voice. He found himself looking at his brother with the same curiosity that Charles did.

Dean looked deep into Evie's eyes and saw the pain she had carried for all the years of her loneliness. He saw the still raw grief of her loss but, more than that, he saw her sadness that she had no real explanation of James's apparent abandonment of her.

He saw her fear that maybe the things that had been said about her beloved husband were true; and the anger that she had no weapon, no evidence to defend his name. But most of all he saw her anguish at the perpetual lack of closure. The never knowing. The longing for an end.

And he knew he could save her.

"I have something that I think belongs to you."

Dean's voice was a whisper but it contained such emotion, that Evie's unfocussed eyes cleared immediately and moved to hold Dean's.

"You do?"

Her voice held wonder and he smiled and reached toward his inside jacket pocket.

The letter was as he remembered it, dry and brittle and old. He placed it reverently in her hands and she glanced at it, before her gaze returned to his. Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke.

"This is James' writing. My James."

She whispered and Dean nodded.

"He's alive?"

A moment of hope filled her voice, but the sadness on Dean's pale face answered her question. She sighed; a soft, sad sound and she grasped his hand to steady herself as Charles held her tight against him.

"I knew he wasn't."

Her words were barely audible and tears trickled from her vivid blue eyes to course down her cheeks as she lowered her head.

"He would never have left me alone to face all there was to face. I knew he was dead but all the same, I hoped..."

She stopped as the tears finally took her breath. She buried her head into Charles apron front as he held her tightly. Dean's throat worked against the lump there as he watched her shoulders heave with silent sobs. He held her hand tightly, hoping she might take strength from the touch.

She allowed herself only a moment of grief before she straightened and wiped her face. She smiled at Dean, squeezing his hand.

"I must read this."

She held the letter so tight that tiny slivers of it broke away and floated to the floor.

"Will you excuse me for a few moments?"

Dean nodded, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill to join hers. She stood.

"Charles?"

Her friend moved to her side.

"Will you look after our guests?"

Charles squeezed her shoulder.

"Of course I will, Evelyn. It will be my pleasure. I'll tend to Dean's wounds whilst you read James' letter. Take your time. There's no hurry."

She patted his hand where it touched her shoulder, wiping again at the tears.

"You're right, Charles. He has waited all these years to have me read this. I will not hurry it now."

She drew herself upright and moved purposefully away between the still laden tables, choosing one a few feet away from the booth. And there she sat with her back to them taking a little privacy to read her husband's dying words

wWw

"So, Dean."

Charles smiled appreciatively down at the tall, slim hunter laid out on the bench seat before him. He was a fair bit dirtier and a little less clean shaven than the last time he had seen him but none the less attractive for that.

"I'm trying to figure where to start but..."

He gestured with both hands to Dean's long, lean body.

"It's all fair game. I guess the pertinent question is what hurts most?"

Charles' smile hid none of his admiration for the older Winchester and Sam laughed, anticipating Dean's discomfort.

Dean, for his part, sighed and Sam braced himself for the inevitable 'I'm fine's' and the 'Get your hands offa me!' but they never came.

"Honestly, Charles?"

Dean looked up at his ginormous brother and the diminutive chef beside him. They both nodded and Dean noted Sam's 'Please behave' expression. Dean spread his hands in defeat.

"You can just take your pick, because at this moment, it all hurts. In fact, even my hair hurts!"

Charles smiled sympathetically; gently patting Dean's extended leg, as he turned and made for the kitchen.

"I'll get the first aid kit. Don't you move, Mr Cringle. I'll be right back!"

Sam laughed, watching the fussy little man's departure before retaking his seat across from his brother. He looked at Dean but the hunter's attention was elsewhere and Sam followed his gaze back to Evelyn. Worry creased Dean's forehead as he watched her and unconsciously the hunter wrapped his arms around his body, trying to ease the ache he felt for her.

"How did you know it was her, Dean? That she was Evie?"

Dean glanced at Sam. His eyes suddenly nervous, as if caught doing something he shouldn't.

"I'm not sure, really. I just ...well, I just sorta knew."

He looked at his brother and Sam saw, in Dean a rare but urgent need for reassurance. Sam smiled, saying nothing but what he said with his eyes and was relieved to see his sibling relax.

"Do you think she's okay?"

Sam asked softly as both brothers looked at Evie's bowed head. Dean looked down at his hands, his eyes brimming again.

"No. Not right now she's not. But she will be, Sam. It's better to know, I think. Rather than to always wonder."

He looked up suddenly into his brother's eyes.

"Don't you think?"

Sam nodded.

"You've done a good thing here, Dean."

Dean smiled softly.

wWw

Charles placed his case on the table between the brothers as their twined gazes returned to him. Pride resonated in his voice as he started speaking.

"Evelyn has had to fight to hold her head up high. When the mill was brought down and the Harvey's blamed James, she had a lot to endure. Not only did she lose him and her livelihood but the townspeople mostly hated her. It's taken years for her to regain their respect."

He gestured Sam to rise and stand beside him and, as Dean looked on, he crouched by the front of the booth table.

"There's a catch somewhere that releases the top..."

Charles mumbled from beneath the table.

"Ah!"

A clicking noise followed and the table top popped up. Charles stood back up and looked at Sam.

"It should lift off now...it'll give me easier access to Dean."

He smiled down at his resigned patient and Dean sighed as a grinning Sammy removed the table and propped it against the wall. Charles busied himself with his case, removing dressing packs and scissors, swabs and forceps. It was a very professional set up and Dean's anxiety dropped a notch or two.

"Okay. Let's see what we're dealing with here."

Charles pulled on some surgical gloves and surveyed his patient. He took in the cut temple and crudely wrapped hands but it was Dean's leg that bothered him most. He knew blood stains when he saw them and so, taking up the scissors, he said.

"Well, boots off first I think, while you decide if you're gonna take the jeans off, Mr Cringle. Or whether I have to cut them off?"

Dean simply groaned and closed his eyes knowing resistance was futile.

wWw

Charles was an excellent medic. He was skilled, knowledgeable and thorough but none of that made any of the procedures less painful for Dean. The diminutive man had started by removing Dean's boots and blood stained socks so he could unwrap the hunter's fractured toes.

The elder Winchester had assumed that getting the constricting corset of wet leather off of his foot would ease the throbbing pain from his toes, so he was surprised as the release of pressure allowed blood to flood the digits and kindle to flame the previously only smouldering nerve endings. He bit down against the fresh wave of pain as Charles studied his bruised foot.

"You did well tidying the nails up here, Sam."

Charles patted Sam's thigh where it pressed against his in the confined space of the booth-come-infirmary and Dean sniggered as his brother blushed a little.

"Thanks, Charles. They were a bloody mess and I didn't know what else to do."

"Well, you did okay."

The chef-come-medic gently murmured as he palpated the toes. Dean, for his part, made subtle owh and ahh noises at the motion.

"Well, there's not a lot to do for a broken toe really. Rest it, ice it for the swelling."

He looked disapprovingly down at Dean as he questioned Sam.

"I don't suppose he's much good at resting things?"

Sam laughed.

"You're right there, Charles. He's the worst patient you could imagine."

Charles nodded knowingly as Dean frowned and crossed his arms moodily across his chest.

"Well, it's not as if I could've just got into my luxurious bed at The Holy Night Inn and rested up, was it?"

Dean's accusatory tone got the desired grimace from Charles and the reciprocal 'be nice, he's helping you' glower from Sam. The prone Winchester rolled his eyes but made nice.

"Yeah, well. That's no one's fault, I guess."

Charles' face returned to a smile as he continued his 'medic's apprentice' lesson for Sam.

"Anyway. I can show you a more supportive strapping that might make it a bit easier for Dean to walk on them 'til they heal."

Sam watched entranced as Chas' skilled hands carefully wrapped and strapped his brother's forefoot with minimal twitching from the patient.

"How's that feel? Not too tight?"

Dean flexed his toes gingerly. They still ached dully but the raw grating was reduced and the bandaging had them feeling warm for the first time in days. The hunter smiled.

"Feels good, Charles."

The surgeon-gastronome beamed with delight and giggled.

"Oh lovely, I like to make my charges feel good!"

Dean looked quickly at Sam, his eyes effortlessly conveying 'say one word and die!' Sensibly, Sam zipped his lips and Charles continued.

"I think we should do your hand next. It's a sprain, I assume, Sam? So, similar strapping..."

"Well, dislocated actually, Charles."

The medic was taking the filthy bandage down as Sam responded and Dean sucked in his breath as the fabric pulled the tops off his multitude of blisters.

"Sorry, Dean."

Charles turned Dean's hand carefully, examining the bruising around the re-located thumb and the raw flesh of his palm. He looked up at the younger Winchester.

"You put this back very efficiently, the bruising could be worse considering. You recognise dislocations?"

The chef's curiosity was peaked with regard to these men. They were casual about their various wounds and knowledgeable about dealing with them. Much more so than the average person.

Dean could see Charles' interest and moved out of habit to deflect it.

"We like to hike, Charles and we're both accident prone. Means we have learned to deal with a few knocks and scrapes over the years."

The Santa hatted man nodded curtly. He knew he was being gently warned off.

"Sure you do, boys."

The awkwardness of the moment was dispelled as Charles smiled and reached for a dressing pack.

"Is your other hand blistered too, Dean?"

Dean held up the other shabbily bandaged hand for inspection and another scabbed, raw palm peaked through the dressings.

"Okay. I'll do this one, and strap your thumb."

His eyes tracked to the younger man's face.

"Okay, Sam?"

The apprentice-medic sat forward on the seat, his face attentive.

"Can you follow my lead and dress Dean's other hand as I do?"

"Sure thing, Charles."

Dean rolled his eyes at his sibling's eagerness.

"Don't you roll your eyes, Mr Cringle, or I'll maybe just ask you how you managed to blister your hands so badly!"

The saucy look on Charles face made Sam snigger and Dean opted for a dignified silence as his 'nurses' set about wrapping his hands.

wWw

Evelyn paused as the words on the paper before her became indistinct in the rush of tears from her pale blue eyes.

She had always known that James had not just abandoned her, but now here was his heart, laid bare for her, as his life had ebbed away.

They were beautiful words. Words of love and regret and she could hear his warm, deep voice lilting in her ear as she read them over and over again.

He urged her to read his journal, explaining that he had described there, in detail, the sordid events that were to lead to his death, alone, on that snowy Christmas Day. She would do that in time, if these wonderful men had found that too, but if they hadn't then this one sheet of stained, brittle paper was enough to give her peace.

She closed her eyes and held the page to her heart, searching for the feel of her James' strong arms around her. Desperate to hold him one last time.

wWw

The restless spirit of James Tannenbaum sighed as he watched his beautiful Evie smile through her tears as she held the letter to her heart.

In the endless hours of exile he had spent bound to the journal on the frigid mountain he longed only to know that Evie understood that he loved her still. Would love her always.

He reached for her, to enfold her in his arms one last time, as his restored heart at last felt peace.

wWw

Dean studied his two bandaged hands and had to admit that they looked pretty similar, Sam's wrappings being equally as neat as Charles'. And the stinging of the blisters and the throbbing of his thumb was better now his palms were salved with the chef's miracle balm!

It was gonna be hell when he needed to take a leak though, with both hands wrapped up like an Egyptian mummy! Awh...he'd worry about that when the time came.

"So, Dean..."

Charles soft voice broke him from his reverie and he smiled appreciatively at the fussy little man.

"How you doing so far?"

"I'm good, Charles. You know your stuff."

The little man preened at the hunter's praise as he picked up the scissors.

"Okay, but as good as I am, I'm guessing you're not gonna take your pants off for me..."

He winked at Dean, who had the decency to blush just a little as Charles nudged Sam conspiratorially in the ribs.

"At least not with your baby brother sitting right beside us."

Sam chuckled as Dean rolled his eyes again.

"Thought as much. So I'm gonna have to cut the leg of your jeans 'cause it'll hurt like a bitch if I try and push 'em up over the dressing. You okay with that?"

Dean, who had blanched a little at the words 'hurt like a bitch', hastily nodded his agreement as Charles leaned in with the scissors.

He cut the leg of Dean's jeans right up to his mid thigh, noting the hunter's tension as he exposed the stained dressings.

"You okay?"

Dean nodded, tight lipped. He was not looking forward to this. Even though he was impressed with Charles' professional ministrations he knew this was gonna hurt, and hurt bad.

"Sam?"

Charles glanced from Dean's paling face to the other Winchester's.

"There's a bottle of whisky in the kitchen, in the cupboard near the door. Will you fetch it? I think a 'medicinal' shot might be called for here."

Sam nodded and loped off towards the kitchen as Charles turned his attention back to Dean. His face was serious.

"How are you doing really, Dean?"

As he spoke the medic reached out a hand and laid it gently on Dean's sweating forehead.

"You got a bit of a temperature going on there...you feel feverish?"

Dean shook his head, though in truth he did feel a little bit light-headed. The little man eyed him intently.

"Not like you'd actually tell me even if you felt like death, huh?"

He reached into his case and emerged with a bottle of pills. He held them in Dean's slightly fuzzy eye line.

"Antibiotics."

He said as he extracted two of the huge pills and replaced the cap.

"I need you to take the whole course, Dean."

He said loudly, putting the pills in Dean's hand and the bottle in Sam's, as he returned with the whisky and three glasses. Sam nodded, understanding that Charles was entrusting him with that responsibility.

"I don't normally advocate pills and booze at all but just this once..."

He held the filled shot glass towards Dean.

"It might take the edge off the pain as I do the dressings."

Dean popped the pills and raised the glass in salute as he croaked.

"Thanks, Charles."

The little man shook his head.

"No, thank you, both of you."

He squeezed Sam's thigh unexpectedly, drawing a gasp from the younger and a chuckle from the elder Winchester.

"Thank you for Evie and James."

The smile died on Dean's lips as he glanced at the grieving woman at the nearby table. Her head was lowered and she held the tattered letter in her trembling hands. A soft sadness emanated from her.

Dean raised the glass and tossed more of the fiery liquid after the pills, closing his eyes on the moisture there. The liquor burned his throat and set him off coughing. The spasm shuddered down his thigh and the cough became a growl of pain. Charles took it as his signal to proceed, knowing it was only gonna get worse, and slipped the scissors under the edge of the bandages and began to remove them.

The medic was as gentle as he could be, but the pressure of the cold metal on Dean's knee made him squirm. By the time Sam gripped his ankle and gently raised his leg from the seat so Charles could pull the severed bandage from under his knee, sweat was running from his temples to sting his watering eyes.

Three of the seven stitches that Sam had applied had popped under the pressure of Dean walking on his injured leg, and his knee was swollen and massively bruised. The colourful contusions stretched from taut mid thigh almost to his ankle.

Sam went to carefully rest Dean's leg back down on the seating but the strain of having the unsupported joint fully extended made Dean start with pain.

"Hang on, Sam!"

Charles rolled up one of the towels that sat atop his medical case and placed the soft cotton roll under Dean's knee.

"Okay, rest him down now...gently..."

Sam eased the trembling limb down and watched for a moment as the injured hunter fought to get his unsteady breathing under control.

As Dean settled, Charles took his forceps and scissors and removed one of the ruined stitches and brought it close to his face.

"Umm, neatly tied, Sam."

The medic grinned appreciatively and a smile ghosted Sam's lips only to die to a frown.

"Didn't hold though, did it, Charles?"

Sam took the suture from the forceps, examining it.

"What did I do wrong?"

Charles warmed to his subject. He had always loved suturing!

"The knot was fine, Sam, but look here at the wound..."

Two heads leaned close to Dean's trembling thigh.

"You were a bit too close to the edge of the wound..."

Charles' forceps hovered over the torn stitch site as Dean tensed back against the seat-back.

"Umm...hey guys...in the room here!"

Charles and Sam ignored the nervous patient and Charles' cold steel touched the hot wound a little further back from the edge.

"Ouch!"

Dean yelped.

"Here would have been a better entry point."

Charles indicated and Sam nodded, too lost in the semantics of suture placement to notice Dean's writhing. Sam took the forceps from Charles and moved to the second popped suture.

"So, I did the same thing here?"

He gently poked Dean's thigh and was rewarded with a tremor and another louder,

"Ouch! Sam!"

Dean's frown increased, his patience for his 'medical team' wearing thin.

"Well, Sam, it was a little close to the edge, but this one was a bit too tight."

Sam frowned and Charles pointed with a gloved finger.

"See how it's puckered the skin a bit?"

Sam nodded, irritated.

"Damn!"

He swore as he looked up at Charles and the older man placed a conciliatory hand on his shoulder.

"All in all it was a good job though, Sam."

The younger Winchester perked up.

"And you can have another go now..."

"Like hell you can!"

Dean snapped and both men turned to look at him as he placed a defensive hand on his exposed thigh.

"I'm not a piece of gingham and this is definitely not some quilting B so you girls can just go practice your sewing somewhere else!"

A hurt looked crossed his slightly pale face and Sam stuttered apologetically.

"Sorry, bro. It's just, if I know how to do it better they're less likely to pull out next time."

Dean processed the information and found merit in it. He relented.

"Okay, Charlie-boy...teach away. Might as well have a bang up job if possible, but can you just remember that its living tissue you're poking away at? "

The next few minutes were taken up with Charles carefully taking Sam through a suturing master class. He was a good teacher and once Sam got the hang of putting some converse tension to the pull of the suture on the skin, the subsequent ones hurt Dean less.

However, it was a relative 'hurt less' and Dean found that after the first one he was more than happy to lie back and not watch quite as intently as Sam did. In fact, after the first bite of the needle through his already sore flesh, the elder Winchester would have much preferred if it were a nice warm quilt that Charles and Sam were conferencing over, rather than him.

He bit his cheek to find a counterpoint to the pain of the needle and its repetitive stinging pull and let his gaze pass over their bent heads to Evie.

She still sat at the table with her back to them. Her face was slightly turned and Dean could see that her eyes were closed but it did not stop the tears that stained her cheeks. The letter was clutched to her chest, her hands folded around the stained paper. And she leaned a little, as if she were pressing against something...or someone.

The pain was making Dean lightheaded and he blinked against the motes of light that sparked in his tunnelling vision. He looked back to Evie, trying to keep the world from tilting.

Beside her, he thought he saw a figure but it was indistinct. It appeared to be a tall, dark haired man and as Dean watched, the entity drew her closer, in towards himself, tightening his hand protectively about her shoulders. For just a brief moment the hazy outline of the bowed head turned towards the barely conscious hunter. Feelings of satisfaction, gratitude, warmth and an overwhelming love for the woman he now held in his arms emanated from him.

'_Thank you…'_

The words drifted to Dean as on a distant breeze.

James.

That had to be James.

Dean smiled and let his eyes close contentedly against the pain, unwilling to eavesdrop on their final intimacy.

wWw

Dean woke as the cold metal of Charles' surgical scissors cut his pant leg higher up his thigh. He started at both the cold touch of the metal and the warmth of the diminutive medic's hand on his taut muscles. He tried to rise only to have his injuries halt him. His sudden change in position made the room swirl and buck and he flung out a hand looking for something to rebalance himself with.

"Whoa easy there, tiger!"

Sam's restraining hands held Dean against the seating, stilling him, as his eyes found focus on his brother's face.

"Hey, Smmy."

Dean's voice was a bit slurred, tiredness and whiskey combining with the warmth in the room and his full belly to hasten the sleep he'd missed out on over the last few days.

"You okay?"

Sam nodded, loosening his grip as Dean steadied and, reassured that his brother was okay, sat back down on the seat opposite.

"Charles just needs to bandage your leg back up and then he's done. Alright, bro?"

Dean's unfocussed eyes sought stability in Sam's face as the younger man continued.

"He's just gonna cut the leg of your jeans a bit higher so he can wrap your knee nice and tight. You'll be better able to use it if it's supported."

Sam offered by way of explanation and Dean looked down at his re-sutured leg. It was a neat job and though the wound looked inflamed, the row of blue stitches didn't hurt too badly.

"Thanks, Charles."

Dean mumbled as he rolled his head towards the medic, grinning, and the older man returned the smile.

"You're welcome, Dean."

He said as he placed a thick, absorptive pad against the wound, before picking up a wide stretch bandage.

"Sam?"

Sam moved to the medic's side.

"Can you hold his leg up so I can bandage it?"

Sam took hold of Dean's leg at the ankle and carefully lifted, crouching to place his other hand supportively under the calf as Charles quickly and efficiently bound both wound and bruised knee.

Dean closed his eyes again and clenched his teeth as the procedure inevitably hurt like crazy. Charles, however, was speedy and it was only a couple of minutes before Sam was resting his leg back down.

"How does that feel, Dean?"

He opened his eyes and let go the breath he had been holding.

"Feels...good..."

Charles laughed as he packed away the remains of his kit. He patted Dean's leg appreciatively.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a rotten liar?"

Sam guffawed and Dean was about to answer when Evie's voice cut in as she approached them.

"He may be a rotten liar, Charles, but Dean is welcome here anytime."

Her face was composed but her tears had left damp track marks down pale cheeks and she looked tired beyond measure. But still she emanated warmth and a contentment that was palpable to all in the room.

She touched Sam's arm as she passed him to sit on the seat across from where Dean lay on the booth seating.

"And you too, Sam. You are both always welcome here."

She still held the letter in her hand and as she looked at the elder hunter, he could see a myriad questions sparkling in her blue eyes.

"Sam?"

Charles lifted his medical case as he spoke.

"I think we need some coffee here."

He gestured to Dean and Evie as the hiker's widow reached over and carefully took hold of Dean's bandaged hand.

"Will you give me a hand in the kitchen?"

His unspoken message was '_they need a moment alone to talk'_ and Sam nodded, sensing as clearly as Charles that his brother and this woman shared a deep bond.

"Sure, Charles."

Sam picked up the debris of the dressings session as he glanced at his brother.

"You be okay?"

Dean's green eyes rose from Evie's face and Sam was amazed at the emotion within them. Loss, regret, joy, happiness all swam in those emerald pools.

"I'll be fine, Sammy."

Dean smiled as he answered, his gaze starting to move back to hers, but he paused before he broke the contact, and though he said nothing, he allowed Sam for a second to see even deeper, to the unconditional love in his heart.

It was a place that Dean so rarely exposed, even for Sam, and the younger man found tears prickling his own eyes as he nodded to his brother then turned and followed Charles to the kitchen.

wWw

Evelyn held Dean's hand tight, so tight that the blisters on his palm throbbed, as she looked deep into his eyes. Her face was warm and alive with emotion and he found himself smiling, almost shyly, in return.

"How can I begin to thank you for what you have done for me?"

Dean shrugged, suddenly unsure of himself.

"No need to. It's what we do, Sam and I."

He glanced towards the sound of good natured laughter coming from the kitchen, reluctant to go on but equally as unwilling to break the contact. She saw his hesitancy.

"You solve mysteries...find people who are lost?"

Evelyn prompted, knowing that this man was not keen on talking about himself. That he had internal barriers and walls higher than her beloved South Mountain. Dean tilted his head, quirking his mouth to the side as he thought through her question.

"Yeah, I guess...Sometimes we find...people..."

There was more in what he didn't say than what he did and Evie's head tilted to match the hunter's.

"What else do you find, Dean?"

He didn't answer but she watched his eyes flee from hers, but not so quickly that she didn't see the carefully contained fear within them. It made her sad for these boys, and protective of them. They were both so young and she could sense so many wounds, both physical and emotional, that the pair of them carried.

He glanced back at her and opened his mouth to answer. She knew it would be a glib, artful answer and she frowned a little.

"Please! Don't under value what you have done here. I couldn't bear it."

It was enough to stop the words in Dean's throat and he lowered his head, unable to watch her disappointment.

Evie held the silence, watching the young man's chest rise and fall and his throat work to swallow the lump there. She waited, allowing the silence to give Dean the permission he needed to continue.

"We sometimes find...we find...things...Evie. Not people but...things, creatures."

His soft voice returned to her, his head rising quickly. In his expression she saw a terror that she would not understand or, worse still, disapprove. His fears shadowed his pale eyes.

"Ghosts?"

It was a whisper and as she said it she clutched his hand tighter. He nodded slowly as she continued.

"Like James?"

"Yes, only..."

He frowned in that way that made him look very young indeed.

"Most of them are out to hurt or kill though. Not many of them are like James."

Her face lit up at her husband's name.

"You did see him didn't you, Dean?"

Her words were not needy, she didn't require confirmation of James' presence, she simply wanted for this good man before her to have known the man her husband was.

"Yes, on the mountain. Many times, I think."

She nodded.

"And here? When I was reading the letter."

As she spoke she reached to the neck of her T-shirt and withdrew an old silver locket, drawing her thumb nail down the seal to open it. She held it on its chain towards Dean and he leaned forward to see the image. The motion jarred his leg and he gasped at the sudden pain. His hands flew to his injured leg and Evie leaned into him, her hand going to his shoulder to steady him as he breathed around the pain.

"I...it..."

Dean gasped, looking into her face with watering eyes.

"It...hurts..."

Evie moved across and perched on the edge of the booth seating, facing Dean. He was fighting to get his breathing under control but the spasms from his knee just kept coming. She leaned towards him and slowly put her arms around him. For a moment he stiffened in her embrace.

"I could use the hug, Dean. Please?"

His tension eased slowly, until his forehead rested against her collar bone and his body pressed warmly to hers. She tightened her arms around him and sat patiently as he quietened.

After a moment or two she felt him straighten a little and she eased him back carefully, grabbing the old sheepskins he and Sam had arrived wearing, pillowing them behind him for support. As she sat back from this he touched the locket as it swung from its chain around her neck. Evie slipped it over her head and lay it in his hand.

"He was only about 30 then. Oh my, he was good looking."

She laughed, remembering her James and her love for him. Her face was alive with the joy of her life with him and Dean joined in her pleasure.

He studied the tiny picture, comparing it to the fuzzy image of the figure that had seemed to stand beside Evie as she read the letter.

"Do you think it was him? Was he really here, or was it just that I so wanted him to be?"

Evie's tone was soft but urgent and Dean understood her need for confirmation. Hell, he spent his life seeking validation for the things he saw. He looked up from the photograph to her questioning face. His voice was soft but emphatic as he answered.

"He was here, Evie. I'm sure of it...I know it."

She laughed a short sharp bark that was both elation and grief and he reached towards her and held her as she wept in his arms.

wWw

Charles was discreet enough to make sure that he and Sam returned rather noisily to the booth with the mugs of steaming coffee, to alert Evie and Dean to their return. He wanted them to have the chance to compose themselves if they needed to and Sam understood what Evie's good friend was doing and admired him for it.

"Here we come!"

He trilled happily as he led the way back, his sharp eyes immediately seeking out Evie to check she was alright.

They found the pair comfortably releasing their heartfelt embrace, Evie smiling as Dean gently wiped away her tears and Sam was touched to see that his often restrained brother had no difficulty in engaging emotionally with this charming woman.

"Might be easier if we put the table top back on, Sam."

Charles bumped his hip against Sam's to attract his attention and the tall hunter nodded and carefully placed the mugs he was carrying on the table behind him, as he collected the booth's table top from against the wall and replaced it.

"Here you go, Dean."

Charles placed the big mug of steaming java on the surface by the recumbent man's side and smiled as Dean closed his eyes and breathed in the heady aroma, as they all took their seats.

"God, that smells good!"

Dean's eyes twinkled as he met the diminutive chef's and Charles chuckled at his pleasure.

"Just wish I could pick it up."

Dean raised his bandaged hands, his lips pouting sulkily. The older man glanced at Sam, winking.

"Ah, we thought of that."

He reached into his apron pocket and withdrew a bendy drinking straw, bedecked with tiny sprigs of plastic holly, and popped it into Dean's mug, saying.

"Suck it up, Winchester!"

Sam laughed out loud as the familiar epithet flowed from such different lips than the brothers were used to hearing it from. Charles sounded so unlike John and as he looked at his brother he saw amusement begin to quirk Dean's lips too.

"What's so funny?"

Evie asked, her smile matching theirs though she had no idea why.

"Something our dad often says."

Dean grinned at Sam.

"Though not usually in this context."

He added as he swizzled the yuletide straw into place with his sore hands and bent forward to take a drink. The movement inevitably jarred his knee and he leaned back, hiccupping against the pain. Three hands moved simultaneously to lift the mug for him, the two men quickly deferring to Evelyn. She smiled her thanks to them and raised the mug holding the straw to his lips as he gratefully sipped the restorative brew.

"Good?"

She held his eyes with hers as he let go the straw and she replaced the mug on the counter top.

"Oh Hell, yeah."

Dean affirmed, tiredness evident in his sleepy answer.

As they were speaking Sam retrieved the journal from his jacket pocket and laid it gently on the table.

"I think this is yours."

Evie's breath caught in her throat as she ran her fingers over the worn leather, tracing the faded gold letters on its surface.

"J.T."

She whispered as she looked at the diary.

"James Tannenbaum."

She said the words reverently, with happy remembrance, with love as she looked up at the men surrounding her, tears again brimming in her eyes.

She found Charles first and he reached forward and softly laid his hand over hers.

"His journal?"

Evie nodded and drew the tattered leather towards her.

"It details what happened..."

Sam said quietly.

"Everything that led up to James' death on the mountain."

Evie nodded her understanding.

"His letter mentioned this diary, Sam. I'm so glad you found it."

"It wasn't his fault, Evie. The mill...everything...Not James' doing."

Dean's voice was gentle and she reached out, taking his bandaged hand in hers.

"The Harvey's...I always knew but I could never prove it."

Sam and Dean nodded in unison as tears ran down her cheeks.

"I'll read it. Maybe not tonight. I'll take my time with it. I want to really understand what happened."

Her voice regained its strength and they saw the courage that had taken her through the last few difficult years etched on her handsome face.

"Absolutely not tonight, Evelyn."

Charles chipped in, his voice playfully authoritative.

"That can wait for another day. You need some sleep, Hell we all need some sleep. Have you all seen the time?"

He gestured to the clock on the diner wall. It read 3.55am.

"It's Christmas Day and I have two weary travellers to get to their room at the inn!"

Evie and Dean looked confused as Charles and Sam smiled widely. Sam chuckled at his brother's look of tired consternation as he explained.

"Whilst we were making the coffee, Charles got on his PDA and sorted us a room at The Holy Inn."

Dean smiled hesitantly.

"I don't understand, I thought it was full, you said everywhere was full?"

Wide green eyes turned to the grinning chef.

"Well, Dean..."

Charles patted the elder Winchester's hand where it lay on the table top.

"That was before I knew what a wonderful thing you were going to achieve for my Evelyn. Having these..."

He gestured to the letter and diary.

"Will save her from spending further Christmases wondering what happened."

He looked at Evie whose smile confirmed his words as she took the treasured documents into her hands.

"And if that's not worth a few nights at Bethlehem's finest inn, then I don't know what is."

Sam's grin was huge and matched only by Charles' and Evie's.

"Well, way to go, Charles!"

Dean smiled sleepily.

"So, Sammy. We get to R&R in luxury after all. Told you this'd be a fantastic Christmas!"

"And maybe, boys, you'd join Charles and I for lunch tomorrow..?"

Charles laughed and tapped his watch face.

"Make that today...Christmas Day, at my house?"

Evelyn smiled as she rose from the booth and they began to make a move to leave the diner.

"Charles and I always spend the holidays together and we'd love to have you join us."

Sam looked down at Dean as he retrieved his sheepskin from where his brother lay against it and tiredly pulled it on. He knew that his brother was often reluctant to demonstrate his understated social graces on strangers so bit his tongue, leaving the response to Dean. He wanted to spend time with these people he had come to care for but could see the pain and exhaustion on his brother's face. He would not force Dean against his wishes.

"We'd like that, Evie, Charles."

Dean said softly, the ease of his answer delighting Sam.

"Oh good!"

Charles clapped his hand to Sam's back, his smile beaming for all in the room.

"I do my famous Christmas barbeque, don't I, Evie? We get fed up of seeing turkey doing the meals here so we have 'burgers a la Charles!"

Evelyn laughed as she stepped aside; allowing the men to, again, remove the table top, creating an easier exit route for the injured hunter.

"Do you like burgers, Dean?"

She looked down into her new friends green eyes as she reached his coat from behind him, holding it ready as Sam stepped in to help lift his injured legs to the floor, carefully supporting his knee so Dean had to bend it as little as possible.

"I..sure...do"

Dean's voice was breathless with the exertion as Sam bent to slide his hand around his brother's waist, ready to raise him to his feet.

"On three, Dean?"

Sam was crouched at eye level making sure Dean was ready. He knew moving him was gonna hurt and he wanted it to be only as traumatic as it needed to.

"How can we help?"

Evie asked solicitously.

Sam looked up.

"Charles, maybe you could hold Dean on that side?"

He gestured to Dean's left.

"And as we get him up, Evie, can you put his coat on?"

Nods confirmed understanding all round and Sam glanced back to his brother as he sat patiently on the leather seating.

"You okay with that, bro?"

Dean nodded and though he smiled, Sam could see him biting down against the pain.

"'k, Sammy..."

Sam and Charles moved into place, draping Dean's arms about their shoulders. Sam glanced at the chef.

"So, on three. We lift him slowly and..."

Charles raised his right hand in question, temporarily halting the proceedings.

"What do I grab onto with this hand?"

There was a twinkle in the diminutive, Winchester-admirers eye and Evie chuckled as she scolded.

"Charles..!"

He feigned contrition as Sam grinned and Dean rolled his eyes.

"His belt, Charles, I suggest."

Sam responded, only to have Dean chip in.

"Yeah, no lower, Charlie boy. Don't want you bruising the merchandise."

Charles made a play of looking suitably disappointed as Sam started his count.

"One...two...three..."

They lifted Dean as gently as they could but that didn't stop the room spinning wildly or the furnace that had replaced his knee stoking up to boiling point. He groaned; his head rolling against his chest as Evie stepped close, and between them, they got him into his coat.

By the time she was buttoning him up, Dean was panting breathlessly and his eyes were fluttering closed. She looked worriedly at Sam.

"You sure we don't need to take him to hospital?"

"No!"

Dean found enough energy to growl out the one word, and Sam smiled.

"He'll be fine, Evie. He needs to sleep and he'll be good."

Sam's belief in his brother's amazing recuperative powers resonated in his confident words and Evie nodded, reassured. She knew that these brothers knew each other so well that she had faith in their answers.

"Okay then. Let's get you to bed, Dean."

She turned and led the way to the door, holding it open as Charles and Sam more or less carried their charge out into the freezing night, to their well deserved rest in Bethlehem's Holy Inn.

Ends.

So watch out over the weekend for the epilogue. Come on, we'll let you watch Dean and Sam sleep!


	17. Chapter 17 Epilogue Part One

_So here is the first part of the epilogue...okay we know technically we are pushing our luck with a two part epilogue but see Sam and Dean just don't seem to wanna stop talking!_

_We've given them a bit of nice R&R at last, Charles is such a giver! _

_So final (yes we promise final!) part of epilogue tomorrow. Thanks for sticking with us! _

_Hey C1...we can't reply to you so just wanted to say thanks for the lovely lovely reviews and yes we will most likely post the new story on DeansBabyBird on . You can also find Jane and Bev as Janger and Birdie on UnGen._

**The Twelve Saves of Christmas**

**Epilogue**

Christmas Morning 4.13am

"Just pull her in round the back there, Sam! I have a reserved parking space, right by the service entrance."

The diminutive man leant both elbows on the wide bench seat in front of him and gestured towards a snow topped parking bay, well lit by the hotel security lights that flooded the backlot with their golden glow.

"I'll square it with security so they know that you're here otherwise they might be surprised that my Aston isn't here."

"Astn ...Mrtn?"

Dean's barely awake question whispered into the Impala's cabin. Charles leaned forward so he could look at the drowsy hunter where he leaned snuggled in his sheepskin in the front passenger seat.

"Yes, Dean. I have a Vantage. She's old but so pretty."

Dean lifted his head a tad and smiled sleepily.

"Nice...classy car. Jmes Bond hd...Vantage..."

Charles' face lit up and he wriggled a little further forward so Dean could see him more clearly.

"When you feel a little better, I'll take you for a ride in her, Dean, if you like?"

"Umm...sure, Charles...like that..."

Dean mumbled as his eyes closed again. Sam rolled his eyes wondering how Dean would react to his 'date' with his admirer when he reminded him of it, when lucidity returned.

"That the space there?"

Sam tipped his chin towards the snow-covered gap near the door and Charles nodded. He cruised the old Chevy forward toward the space.

"Gosh, it's been a while since I had a muscle car parked up the back here!"

Charles quipped and Sam snorted softly, shaking his head at his companion's dubious humour. Gently, he eased his foot onto the brake and brought the purring black beast to a halt, slipped her into park and shut down the engine. Resting his shaggy head back against the black leather seat for a moment, he rolled his shoulders trying to ease the nagging ache he felt, his every movement an indication of the exhaustion that he was now feeling.

"Which way, Charles?" Sam managed sleepily, as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"Well, I've got the keys to the service lift, so we won't have to manhandle your brother too far, before I get him tucked up in a nice warm bed!"

He reached over and patted the shoulder of the spiky haired figure, slumped against the passenger's door. Dean mumbled a little but didn't move.

"Don't you worry about any of the paperwork. I'll sort out everything and then I'll pop up to your room with it later today. I never work Christmas Day; Evelyn and I always spend the day together."

Sam half turned in his seat, and smiled warmly at the bright-eyed, chef-cum-hotel manager.

"Thanks, Charles. We owe you big time for this."

Charles simply reached up and adjusted his merry Santa hat to a more respectable angle, before sliding across the seat and reaching for the door handle.

"Aah, Sam! Believe me, the pleasure is all mine. It'd be worth it just to see Evie's face tonight, but to help you boys too is an extra bonus. Anyway, I think we'd better get Dean safely inside and into the warm. Just wait here for two minutes, okay? I'll turn off the alarms and get the service door unlocked."

He shouldered the heavy car door open and stepped out, surefooted onto the crisp snow, giving Sam a small wave as he disappeared into the shadows.

Sam shivered at the sudden draft from the door and then reached across to gently shake the arm of his barely conscious sibling.

"Hey, Dean? You still with me, bro? Charles has gone to open up. I'll get you inside and settled then I'll come down for the bags. Okay?"

A slow blink of emerald green and a slight nod were the only acknowledgement he received.

A worried frown crossed the younger man's pale face as he reached up and felt his big brother's bruised brow, pushing Dean's head lightly back to rest against the cracked leather. There was a vague heat from his forehead that was worrying and thoughts of fever crossed Sam's mind. Dean didn't do so well when he got a high temperature and Sam's anxiety level's for his strangely quiet brother raised a notch or two.

"Dean, seriously, how're you feeling? You want some painkillers?"

"'M okay, Sammy…Get offa me, man!"

The elder Winchester swatted feebly at the cool hand on his forehead, rallying a little as Sam chatted to him.

"Just don't take too long getting' the bags, ya hear me! Oh, and Sam. Will ya pass me my charger from the glove box?"

Dean struggled to sit up straighter, before shuddering with the pain and bone chilling cold that seemed to have seeped right through him. He hunched his shoulders, sagging deeper into the wide seat as he pulled the pliant suede more tightly around himself.

"My phone's outta battery and I don't wanna miss it if dad calls."

He whispered, head pounding savagely as his eyes blinked owlishly in the glare from the lights.

"Yeah, cause that's so likely to happen!"

Sam hissed softly, under his breath as he leant across and rooted in the crowded compartment, before continuing in a louder voice.

"Well, at least yours is still working. Mine's been totalled since I fell in that damned river! Man, that was just so…so freakin' cold, I didn't think we were getting out of that one alive, dude!"

Dean was unable to suppress the shiver that ran through him at the memory of what now seemed like it had happened a month ago.

"Getyanuthaone." He sniffed, miserably. "Jeeze...'m tired, Sammy. And it's so damned cold."

Sam slipped the phone charger into his own deep outer pocket and then turned to regard the now visibly trembling figure beside him. Huddled in the overly large sheepskin, his normally invincible brother, suddenly, looked so young and vulnerable, dark shadows accentuating the lean contours of his bruised face.

Movement from the building caught Sam's eye and he unconsciously sighed in relief as he glanced from their re- emerging companion, back to Dean.

"Hey, come on, bro. Last part of the journey, here's Charles. Let's get you… Oh, no! You're just gonna love this, Dean"

Sam chuckled, watching as the elegant figure backed from the building, glancing over his shoulder as he swung in a wide arc, now pushing a wheelchair before him through the deep snow.

"Love what?"

Dean croaked to the closing door, as, pulling up his collar against the night's chill, the longhaired hunter, stepped carefully from the car, his gait none too steady. With one hand balancing on the hood, he made his way around to the passengers' side door, ready to assist his ailing brother from the car.

"Nice set of wheels." Sam observed, smiling broadly.

"Well, I thought the poor boy had maybe had enough rough treatment for one night. Thought we could persuade him to come for a little ride in our courtesy chair!"

"Well, normally with Dean, I'd have said 'no chance', but he's pretty beat tonight. It's been a hell of a couple of days!"

They both peered through the side window at the pale face pressed, seemingly fast asleep, against the glass.

"Besides, he's not got much choice, 'cause, he can't walk and I don't think I can carry him!"

Sam admitted wearily, a half smile on his face.

"Come along then, let's waste no further time. I need to get the pair of you safely ensconced in the warm. I do hope you like the room; it's the only one we've got available. We had a last minute cancellation this afternoon, well, yesterday afternoon. Otherwise there would still be 'no room at the inn!"

As Charles chatted merrily on, Sam eased open the heavy door, hunkering down to catch his brother with practised ease as he withdrew the support the door offered. Charles raised an inquisitive eyebrow knowing that this was not the first time these boys had been dealt harshly with by their lifestyle!

"Hey, bro. Come on. Let's get you out of there, Dean."

Sam supported his groggy brother's head and upper body, easing him up against his own chest.

"Nnnhh!"

The soft groan was almost inaudible.

"Hey, it's okay. Come on! We're nearly there. Look, got you a ride into the hotel, save your having to try and walk."

Sam turned Dean a little so he could focus on the wheelchair and as expected he could see the look of horror in his brother's eyes.

"No, Sam...can...walk!"

"I know you can, Dean."

Sam's voice resonated with the pride he felt for his courageous sibling.

"But this'll be a lot easier on me. I'm tired and I don't know if I can help hold ya up. Don't wanna fall on my ass in front of Charles, Bro."

Dean's wavering gaze struggled to find Sam's face and behind the exhaustion was understanding. He knew this was a ploy on the part of the younger man but he was grateful for Sam giving him a face saving opportunity. The green eyes held Sam's hazel ones for a heartbeat, before fluttering twice and falling shut.

"'Kay, dude, but only 'cause you are too much of a girl to manage. Understand?"

Sam and Charles both affirmed the capitulating hunter's statement with relieved nods, their brief glance at each other saying they both understood Dean's position as Sam pressed forward.

"I'm just gonna move your legs, Dean. Ready?"

Sam's familiar voice filtered into the dazed hunter's mind, calming him as he sought their meaning, the thoughts and words slipping through his fingers like mist through a veil.

Sam shuffled round, edging his right arm under Dean's legs as gently as he could. Rising, he eased his brother from the car, staggering backwards as he lifted him clear.

Dean fought in vain, to suppress the groans that tore from his throat, only to be muffled, as he buried his face into his brother's wide shoulder. Wave after wave of pain buffeted him, assaulting him viciously with their intensity. Panting, weakly, head spinning alarmingly, he fell gratefully towards the welcoming arms of darkness.

"Sshhh, sshhh! I gotcha, its okay. Nearly there." Sam whispered, soothingly, breathing out a sigh of relief as he felt his brother go limp in his arms.

"You've done that a few times before, Sam, by the look of things?" Charles observed, sympathetically.

Sam just bobbed his head in reply, chewing on his lip, as Charles re-positioned the chair, giving Sam room to manoeuvre his brother onto the thickly padded seat.

"Dean, it's okay, now. Sit back relax! We'll be in the warm in just a minute."

He glanced up at the compassion clearly visible on the small man's face.

"He's out of it, for now. Let's try and get him upstairs and outta the chair before he comes round again? That knee has gotta be killing him and I don't want him hurt anymore tonight if we can help it."

Charles nodded gravely as Sam moved behind to take the wheelchair's handles, allowing Charles to move ahead and open the doors.

Five minutes and a lift journey to the very top floor of the Holy Night Inn, found the three weary travellers standing outside the wide double doors of _The Presidential Suite._ Charles swiped his master key card and the doors open smoothly with a soft click.

Sam's jaw dropped as he wheeled his unconscious brother into the enormous lounge area. Beautifully decorated in understated splendour, the aroma of leather and wood polish drifted from the door to greet them. Two oversized leather settees with numerous scatter cushions lined either side of a low oak coffee table, positioned to enjoy the best panoramic views that the floor to ceiling windows could offer.

"Charles, what is this? We can't possibly afford to stay here, man!"

"I'm afraid it's all we have available at the moment, so it'll just have to do."

Charles spoke apologetically, though the joyous glint in his eyes belied his delight at Sam's startled reaction.

"Come along now, let's get the pair of you settled, we all need to get some sleep if we're going to be in any state for dinner later on."

He ushered the wide-eyed hunter through the luxurious lounge, under a wide arch and into a separate study, pausing to press buttons on a discreet wall panel, which immediately ignited a freestanding, low mounted, log fire beneath a marble clad flue. He raised an amused eyebrow in answer to Sam's questioning look.

"Anyway, don't worry about the room, I still have your brother's deposit on file from the overbooking, so I can just write this off as a complimentary room upgrade. The hotel management will see it as a goodwill gesture, seeing as I am the management! I may have to register you under the original booking name though! However, that's rather appropriate today isn't it?"

"The guest restroom's through that door over there and the master bedroom, with luxury en suite, is in here. Then another en suite room through the door over there."

Charles opened the heavy panelled door, proudly displaying the oversized four-poster, festooned with pillows, and cushions that held centre stage in the enormous, plushly furnished bedroom. The top sheet was turned down, revealing dark red, silk sheets under a white silken eiderdown.

"That bed's bigger than most of the motel rooms we normally stay in! Wow, red silk? Dean'll love those."

Sam exclaimed, slipping out of the thick sheepskin coat and draping it over a white chaise longue, as he looked round the room with obvious unease, wondering idly if there was enough salt in the whole of Bethlehem to protect all the windows and doors.

His slow appraisal of the splendour of the room was interrupted by a low groan emanating from the slumped figure in the wheelchair. He glanced up quickly, a frown of worry upon his face.

"Charles, I need to get him into bed, before he wakes up fully. Can you give me a hand with him?"

"Sure, Sam. I'd be delighted to help. Lean him forwards and I'll get his coat and jackets off. The jeans? Well, it might be easier to just cut them off. I don't think his knee will appreciate much more pulling about tonight."

Together, they eased the slowly stirring hunter from his filthy outer clothes, discarding the ruined jeans and throwing everything else onto a pile on the dark oak flooring. With a discreetness borne of years of working in the hotel business, the small man did no more than raise an eyebrow at the array of weapons secreted about Dean's person, as his layers of clothing were removed.

Dean's pale, scratched face was hidden in dark shadow as his head lolled drunkenly towards his chest. Flickers of pain ghosted across his countenance, the tightly clenched teeth and muscle ticking above his jaw line, testimony to his rising state of awareness.

Sam gently prised his now mumbling, semi conscious sibling from the support of the chair, Charles, rearranged the pillows and cushions that covered the enormous bed, pulled down the sheets and stood back allowing Sam unhindered access.

Sighing deeply, Sam laid his brother upon the cold silk sheets, supporting the bandaged knee whilst the small desk clerk slid a pillow underneath the swollen joint. Moving quickly, the little medic placed a further two pillows around the injured, right foot forming a canopy to protect the broken toes.

Through it all, Dean lay stirring restlessly, shivering with the now constant tremors that wracked his muscular frame. Panting, short breaths, hitching gasps interspersed with incoherent, half formed, words that whispered from his cracked lips. His head twisting weakly from side to side as the agony that was his left leg, filtered through the layers of his sub-conscious as his wounded knee was guided down onto the bed.

Sam placed his dried, chapped hand upon Dean's brow, alarmed at the increase in temperature in such a short time.

"Dammit, that's the last thing he needs!"

"His temperature's coming up, huh?"

Worried hazel eyes raised in confirmation as Sam scratched absentmindedly, with his free hand at the itchy stubble on his chin.

"It was bound to, after everything you boys have been through in the last couple of days. He's probably been fighting it off since all this started, but now he's had a chance to relax and something to eat, it's all catching up with him."

Charles smiled reassuringly at the exhausted hunter, who stood towering above him, flagging before his eyes.

"Uh, Charles? I just need to go get our bags up from the car. Would you stay with him while I go, I'll only be a few minutes?"

"Sam, you need to get some rest, before you collapse, too! I can get the bell hop to collect your bags."

"No, 'm fine, Dean get's real twitchy about anyone going near his baby! I'll be back up in a couple of minutes. Are the door still unlocked, will I be able to come up the same way?"

Sam reached out to take the proffered key card from Charles as he continued to fuss with the covers.

"Should still be unlocked, but if not, that will get you in anywhere."

Charles asserted, before continuing. "If the security guards stop you, you just send them up here to me!"

Yawning, Sam retraced his steps down to the patiently waiting Impala, retrieved both grips and the smaller weapons bag, stuffing in the first aid kit to be on the safe side. Then he hurried back up to the limited access VIP floor on the ninth level, and swiped his way in to _The Presidential Suite_.

Shaking his shaggy head, incredulously, as he dwelt on their pendulous fortunes.

Wearily, he dropped their gear onto one of the soft leather couches, and mooched through into the master bedroom, where his big brother lay tossing fitfully, as he struggled to fight off the effects of the fever.

Charles entered from the opposite side of the room, carrying a cold glass of water and bottle of painkillers.

"Um, Charles? The anti-biotic, you gave me earlier this morning. Four times a day either half hour before meals or a couple of hours after, yeah?"

Charles smiled, nodding slowly at the pale, care worn face before him.

"These will help settle him, bring his temperature down, too. We really need to get a dose inside him now, if we can."

He placed the glass and tablets beside the bed, talking quietly, as he continued.

"It might be as well to give him a second dose of the antibiotics too, when you wake him. You don't want to have to disturb him again in a couple of hours. Once he goes off, try to let him sleep for as long as possible, he needs rest as much as anything. Just make sure he takes them again, as soon as he wakes up, 'cause, we must get them into his system. We don't want that infection getting a proper hold on him!"

Sam crossed the room to retrieve the tablets from his outer coat; the tangled wire of the phone charger came out wrapped around the small bottle.

"That's lucky, I'd've forgotten to charge his phone and he'd have hit the roof, when he comes round."

"Waiting for any calls in particular?"

Charles probed gently.

"Dean seems to think he might get a call from our dad. We haven't heard from him in months though, so I don't see why the hell he'd suddenly start to care where we are now?"

Sam stated harshly, vaguely surprised at the rising tide of anger he still felt towards the absent man.

"Well, it is Christmas, Sam, after all."

Charles spoke quietly, looking down fondly at the restlessly sleeping hunter as his brother routed through Dean's pile of clothing, searching for his phone.

"It's the time of year for forgiving. Try not to be too angry with your brother for hoping, or with your father either. I assume he's in the same line of business as you boys?

Sam nodded absently.

"Then maybe he has a lot on his plate too, Sam?"

The older man's astutely knowing gaze held Sam's and the hunter felt his face colour slightly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. It's…nothing, I'm just tired is all and I hate to see Dean disappointed when dad doesn't phone – yet again!"

"As I said, Sam. It's Christmas, the time for miracles. You two worked one for Evie, just this morning. Try to have a little faith!"

Sam connected the mobile, placing it within reach of his brother's hand and then sat on the side of the wide bed, shaking two of the small yellow tablets into his unsteady hand.

'_Dammit, I'm so tired, I could sleep for a week, let alone get up for a Christmas barbeque_.' Sam thought raggedly.

"Right, well I'll leave you two to it. I'm off for a quick shower and a very long sleep."

Charles made to excuse himself, sensing the weary hunters need for rest.

"Thank you, Charles. For everything!"

Sam made to rise.

"No, stay where you are, I know my way out. Give him the meds and then get some sleep, both of you and I'll be back later on to pick you up, if you feel up to it. Don't worry if you don't though, I'll bring Evie and some food over for a visit tomorrow."

"One last question, Charles, I swear. When he wakes up, he's gonna want a shower, but everything's bandaged and stitched. Should I let him take one?"

"Certainly, it'll make him feel much better! I'll come and re-wrap him when I come for you this afternoon, about 2pm. Don't want to miss out on another opportunity to get my hands on the dear boy, now, do I?"

Charles laughed softly, straightened his Santa hat and called over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

"Now, off to bed with you. Dean'll be just fine, after you get those meds inside him. There're complimentary towelling robes, slippers and toiletries in all the bathrooms. Help yourselves. And now, I'm off to bed! Goodnight and sweet dreams!"

"Goodnight, Charles. We'll see you later. Thanks again, for everything."

"Absolutely my pleasure." The disembodied voice drifted from the other room, followed by the soft swishes and click as the double doors closed behind him.

Sam looked down on his fitfully sleeping brother, hating to wake him but determined to get the med into him and stave off the fever. Dean didn't do well with fevers and the last thing Sam needed was to be up with him while he tossed and turned.

"Dean, can you hear me? I need to you to take some meds, dude. Please, just open your eyes for me, okay? "

Dean started at the light touch of a rough hand upon his aching head. His fever-induced thoughts were disjointed, fragmented into brief snapshots of unrelated times and events, people and places. He could hear a quiet voice, calling to him as if from a vast distance, focusing him, levelling him. Allowing him to follow it through the confusing maze, back to the present, back to the light, back to…

"Sam?" The word ghosted from his cracked lips. "Sammy, where a…? Wha...? You okay?"

His eyelids fluttered open a crack, glazed eyes panicking, searching for the source of the voice. He felt the cool silk of smooth sheets against his sore back and chest, shivering as another tremor ran through him.

"Hey, Dean. It's okay, calm down. We're in the hotel. I just need you to take these tablets for me. They'll help with the pain. Can you swallow them for me?"

"'S cold, Sammy. 'M tired. Lemme sleep!" He mumbled, through teeth that chattered.

He felt a cold hand at the back of his head, raising his pounding head, making the room spin, sickeningly.

"Come on, open up and swallow these. Then I promise you can sleep some more."

"Go 'way, Sammy, 'M diz…"

The rest was lost as two tablets were placed on his tongue and he felt a glass of cold water pressed to his lips. Knowing he was too weak and tired to resist, and suddenly realising just how thirsty he was, he took a deep shuddering breath and a long sip of the water. Eyes clenched against the tight knot that gripped the back of his throat, he fought down the rising nausea and swallowed the pills. Then sank back heavily into the deep pillows.

"Satisfied?" He attempted to quirk an eyebrow, but nothing seemed to be working right.

"Nearly there, just two more." Sam encouraged, refusing to go leave him to die in peace.

"You gotta be kid… Please, Sam. 'M fine, jus' tired. Leave me be. Please?"

Resignedly, he repeated the action as his persistent little brother forced more of the pills onto his tongue. Coughing slightly, he winced as all his injuries awoke, sending lightening strikes to reacquaint themselves throughout his spent frame. Grimacing, he gasped as the tablets grated against his raw throat. Exhausted, he fell back to the silken headrest and was fast asleep within moments of his head touching the pillow.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and looked sideways through the open bedroom door, across the wide expanse of the luxurious suite to the second bedroom on the other side of the apartment. He made to rise to go to his own, much needed bed, but something stopped him. A fierce discomfort with putting so much distance between himself and his fever-ridden brother churned at his gut. Knowing Dean was more than likely to go into a girlie hissy fit, if he awoke and couldn't immediately find him, Sam picked up his trusty sheepskin coat and moved around to the other side of the enormous bed.

He yawned widely, forcing his eyes open as he sat down on the elegant bedding and pulled off his scuffed and worn boots. With a final glance over at his debilitated brother he simply curled onto his side on top of the beautiful white counterpane, snuggled into the now familiar warmth of the coat and went to sleep to the sound of his brother's familiar gentle snores.

wWw

It was the soft click of the door as it swung smoothly open that brought Sam, startled, from his deep sleep. Beside him on the bed, Dean still snored gently, a light sheen of sweat beading upon his bruised forehead. Sam lay still, senses reaching out, trying to determine where they were and what had woken him.

The room spun a little as he warily raised his head, listening to the quiet rustle then a louder clink from the other room. His hand automatically reached for the gun in his inside pocket.

"Good afternoon boys."

A bright voice called chirpily from the other room. Sam slowly exhaled the breath he had unknowingly held, relaxing as he recognised Charles. He struggled to bring his watch face into focus. 2:05pm he read, disbelievingly.

"Hope you don't mind me letting myself in. There was no reply, so I thought you might still be asleep. I've taken the liberty of bringing you some breakfast, well, more of a brunch. Well more precisely afternoon tea! If you're feeling up to it?"

The door swung open and a gleaming, stainless steel trolley, laden with a huge coffee pot, mugs and several smaller servers entered on silent wheels, followed by a perfectly presented Charles, looking very dapper in his long, dark grey, wool overcoat.

Beside him, Sam watched as his brother stirred beneath the quilt. Startled by the unexpected arrival, with eyes blinking wildly he struggled to sit up as he lurched awake.

"Nnnhh!"

Pain hit him like and avalanche, from all directions and he fell back to the down-filled pillow, twitching as he waited for the pain to subside and his lungs to remember how to breathe.

"Hey, take it easy, Dean. It's okay; it's just Charles and some breakfast. Afternoon, Charles." Sam leant over and patted sympathetically on his obviously distressed sibling's shoulder. "I'm sorry we musta just slept right through."

Groaning quietly, Sam pushed himself up to lean against the plush headboard, catching his breath before he turned and eased his long legs onto the floor. Stretching his back, he rolled his stiff shoulder muscles, grimacing at the cracks and clicks that accompanied his movements.

"Not a problem, Sam. I was wondering if I'd catch the pair of you still in bed! Sweet dreams?"

He asked the question with a cheeky glint in his eyes.

"Nah, Charles. I don't know about Dean, but I slept like the dead!"

"Sammy?"

A weak voice croaked from the far side of the bed.

"Hey, Dean. How you feeling, bro?"

"Feel great, Sam. Morn'n, Charles." His stilted reassurance was somewhat less than convincing, his flushed face crumpling in pain as he tried to roll onto his side.

"Holy Crap! That hurts." He hissed breathlessly, falling back and pressing the side of his face into the crimson pillow. "Sonofabitch!"

"Stiffened up while you slept, huh? Come on; let's get those meds inside you, they'll help ease it off. Think you can sit up, if I help you?"

Charles made to move to the stricken hunter's side.

Dean nodded, but cast a frantic look in his brother's direction, his pained, bloodshot eyes telling another story.

'_Oh, god! Please don't touch me yet! Just gimme a freakin' minute here, I gotta get my gameface back on!'_

Sam read the panicked glance and rose, with the speed and agility of an arthritic octogenarian, to the rescue.

"Hey, Charles, how about we grab a cup of that Java first?" Sam limped, as swiftly as his aching limbs would carry him, around the bed; he tipped a nod in Dean's direction. "Give _Sleepy _here a chance to wake up, first? Here…"

He sat on the bed and sorted out the tablets, shaking out the correct dosages. Carefully he placed the pills in the trembling man's hand, allowing him time to settle.

"You ready?"

He asked quietly, easing his hand behind his brother's neck at the minute nod he received. Gently, he lifted the shaky head and raised the glass to his bruised lips.

Concentrating on forcing the assorted pills past the shards of broken glass that appeared to have made his throat their home, Dean missed the look of apology and understanding that passed between his brother and the elegantly dressed medic.

Dean shivered as he looked blearily around the room, his eyes fixing on Charles as he poured three large mugs of coffee over by the trolley. Sniffing appreciatively, he managed a lopsided grin and rasped.

"Smells good, Charles."

The small man grinned back as he carried two of the steaming mugs over to the bedside unit.

"Well, I aim to please!" He raised an eyebrow suggestively, "Now, let's have a look at those dressings. We'll get you unwrapped, you can have a quick shower… no; a bath would be a lot safer. Then I'll redress any that need replacing. Okay? Then we'll see if you feel up to a visit to Evie's?"

Dean's face coloured as he chewed unhappily on his lower lip, he squirmed a little in discomfort.

"Uh, Charles? Could you just unwrap my hands first? I, uh, need to use the restroom, real bad."

His embarrassed eyes tracked back to aim daggers at Sam's gently smiling face.

"Ah, yes. Nature calls. Let us liberate your hands and then we can wheel you over there and then you can take it from there."

"Wheel? No freakin' way. Just gimme a hand up and I'll be fine!"

"Well, if that's how you feel. I guess one of us could lend you a hand in there, just in case you come over a little dizzy?"

Sam snorted as Charles good-naturedly ribbed his blushing sibling. Charles swiftly removed his overcoat, and draped it over the end of the wide bed.

"Come on then, let's get them off of you. Give them here."

With impressive speed and ability, Charles removed the old dressings from his hands, inspected the cracked and still oozing palms briefly and then noticing the increasing discomfort of the man before him, he stepped back, smiling.

"Come on, let's get you in that chair. No arguments!" Charles spoke sternly, smoothly sidestepping, to give Sam all the room he needed.

Suddenly nervous of the pain to come, but more so, of allowing the outrageously flirtaceous hotel manager to see him helpless, Dean struggled to hide his fears. Swallowing thickly against the rise of bile at the back of his throat, he looked deep into his brother's liquid brown eyes.

Sam pulled back the covers and prepared to help the stricken man from the bed as Charles brought the wheelchair round to the bedside, smiling gently.

"It'll be a lot quicker in this and I don't think Sam's quite up to carrying you all the way, yet."

"Okay, Sam. Just put me in the damned chair. If I'm here much longer you won't need to worry about me making it to the bathroom, at all!"

Dean growled, glaring up from one to the other.

Sam hid his amused grin at his brother's altercation with the manipulating medic. Bracing himself, he lifted Dean swiftly into the waiting chair, ignoring the hand that bit so deeply into the side of his neck that it would later leave bruise marks.

Five minutes later, Dean wheeled himself back into the room, rejuvenated, with a look of amazed delight plastered across his face.

"Dude, did you see that place?"

He looked around in wonder, as if seeing the exquisitely decorated master bedroom and elaborate four-poster bed for the first time.

"Man, this is some kinda room, Sammy! We've stayed in motels smaller than this!"

Charles laughed delightedly.

"I guess you were a little out of it this morning when we arrived? Would you like to see the rest of it while you have a coffee? Come on I'll give you the guided tour!"

"What do you mean, the rest of it? The rest of the hotel? I'd love to, Charles but I really need to grab a shower and get some clothes on before I'm seen in public."

"No, the rest of your suite!"

Stopping to pick up their coffees, Charles wheeled the bemused hunter through into the softly lit study, where the open fire still glowed, Charles having adjusted it as he left earlier that day. Out into the lounge where Dean nearly leapt from the chair as he spotted the 52" wide screen television that graced one of the walls

Charles gave a running commentary as they continued through into the second bedroom and walk in changing annex. Each room decorated in its own style but the overlying impression of marble, gleaming chrome, leather and antique oak flooring. Original works of art and unique antiques completed the subdued splendour.

Dean's chagrin at being confined to a wheelchair was completely forgotten as he gaped in delight at their surroundings.

"Hell, Charles." He breathed softly.

"This isn't a room, it's a small village! What's the going rate for this per night?"

"Well, as it was all I had available last night, and there was the unfortunate mix up when you first tried to book in, I've arranged it as a complimentary room upgrade for you! So, sit back and enjoy. It's all yours for the next three nights!"

Dean looked up at this broadly grinning brother who had accompanied them on the tour with an '_I've died and gone to heaven'_ expression on his face.

"However, we're due at Evie's at 4:00pm, so if we're going to get you both cleaned up and decent."

He raised an eyebrow at Dean's boxers and T shirt, "We need to think about getting ready."

wWw

Preparation for the trip to Evie's were going well and whilst Dean languished in the steaming Jacuzzi, groaning in pleasure as the effervescent bubbles eased away some of his pain, Charles decided to bring a little festive cheer to the occasion. Raiding the numerous swaths of tinsel, holly and fir garlands that bedecked the lounge, he took it upon himself to decorate the wheelchair in a typically understated and refined manner.

By the time he had finished, silver tinsel snaked its way up the straight supports and sprigs of holly intertwined with the wheel spokes, twirling in eye-catching splendour as the wheels revolved. A set of battery operated Christmas lights flashed their yuletide joy to the world and a sprig of mistletoe dangled enticingly from each of the padded handles.

"What do you think, boys?"

Sam studiously avoided his brother's eyes as they perused the bedecked chariot as he was pretty sure that whilst Dean would feel compelled to avoid perpetrating actual physical violence on Charles, after all he had done for them, he would have no such qualms acting out his frustrations on Sam.

"Ermmm..."

Dean smiled weakly at the glowing medic as Sam risked a glance. The elder Winchester's face was a study in pained politeness.

"It's..."

Dean was choking on the words. He felt stupid enough having to ride in the god-awful pushchair but now it looked like a freaking Christmas tree! However, after several earlier determined but fruitless attempts to make it to his feet, it had quickly become apparent, even to the loudly complaining, injured hunter, that if they were to make it on time for the barbeque that evening, then the wheelchair was to be his only option.

Plus he really didn't want to offend Charles. The guy had just done a very professional and therefore only partially cringingly embarrassing job of re-bandaging his wounds.

Dean bit the bullet and to Sam's amazement, said.

"It's just great, Charles. Can't wait to test drive it. Thanks."

Charles proudly wheeled it over to the overstuffed settee, where the now flagging hunter had just finished dressing with the aid of his younger brother.

"Come along, hop aboard! Your chariot awaits, Sir!"

Dean swatted away Sam's proffered arm, reaching out instead and levering himself gingerly across and into the Yuletide edition of Pimp My Ride. He raised his eyebrows to the beaming designer in appreciation.

Sam barely managed to hold back his snigger, raising one hand to cover his mouth whilst he reached for his camera phone with the other, ready to record the festive event. As he pulled it from his pocket, along with a selection of leaves and fir needles, he swore softly under his breath as he realised it was no longer working.

Dean caught his actions out of the corner of his eye and turned his head, threatening in his best big brother '_you dare take a photo of this, and I'll end you_!' glare.

Sam chuckled, holding out his phone in surrender.

"Don't worry, dude. The darn things not working anyway, though I'd love to record this moment for posterity!"

"Hell, Sammy! I almost forgot, where's my phone?"

Dean exclaimed, patting the pockets of his jacket with his freshly bandaged hands.

"Did you bring up the charger for me? I need to check, see if dad's been trying to get through!"

"Calm down, Dean. It's over on the nightstand, been charging since we got here. Should be all ready to rock'n'roll. Let me fetch it for you."

Sam sauntered through the study and on into the softly lit bedroom, he unplugged the phone and brought it back to his now yawning brother.

"There you go."

He passed it over and Dean nodded, smiling his thanks.

"Listen, I'm gonna go down and warm up the car, the last thing you need with that temperature is to be sitting in the cold. I'll be back up in ten okay?"

"Oh, hold on! I'll come down with you, Sam."

Charles added merrily.

"I need to pop into the office and wish the staff a Happy Christmas. I'll meet you down in reception in fifteen minutes and then we'll head off for Evie's, I hope she's got the barbie nicely warmed up for me!"

"Kay, guys. I'll see you in ten. Sammy, you be careful of my baby, don't leave her unlocked or with the engine running."

"Okay, I promise to look after it." Sam turned to leave.

"You'll be okay?"

"Get outta here, Sam. I'm fine. Go on, or we'll be late for dinner."

Dean waited until he was sure he was alone, and then flipped the lid on his phone and stared at the dark screen with distant eyes, his thoughts turning to the father he had neither heard from nor seen for over a month. He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, frowned and then pressed the button, activating the phone, chewing absentmindedly on his bottom lip as he waited for it to load up.

The screen lit up and the network signal flashed. Dean closed his eyes, the set of his shoulders and the muscles clenched in his cheeks, the only indication of the tension he was feeling. He simply sat there waiting, hoping to open his eyes and see the missed call notification. Hoping for a text or an answer phone message, telling him their dad was okay and maybe thinking of them on this Christmas Day.

After several long minutes he opened his eyes, now cloudy with disappointment, dull with the tiredness that descended upon him like a physical weight. Scowling, he pressed the speed dial, fumbling with the buttons through the lightweight bandages that now wrapped his hands.

With thumb tapping, nervously, against the tinsel sporting arm support, he waited for the call to connect, holding his breath as the ring tone echoed loudly in his ear. A click and a beep followed by the message he had heard so many times before.

"'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 7855 550179 He can help'

He waited for the familiar end of message beep, then clearing his throat nervously, rasped,

"Uh, hey, dad. It… It's me, Dean… I just wanted to uh, check you're okay and to wish you a Happy Christmas. Aah, I'm up in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania with Sammy. Yeah, Bethlehem! Uh, we just finished working a case up here. We're both fine and Sammy says hello."

Dean looked up as he heard the soft tread of footsteps outside.

"Uh, anyway, dad, I gotta go now. If you get a chance to call and maybe let us know where you are, or if you need our…"

The rest was cut off as a distant beep timed him out.

Dean hurriedly snapped the lid closed and returned the phone to his inner pocket, looking up nonchalantly, as his shaggy haired brother stepped through the wide double doors.

Sam crossed the wide expanse of the elaborate lounge and looked down at the defeated set of his big brothers shoulders; in a soft voice he asked the question he was certain he already knew the answer to.

"Well?"

"Well. What?"

"Well, did he call and leave a message?"

"Who, dad? Nah, Sam. I didn't really expect him to. He's probably busy on a hunt someplace. He'll phone when he gets a chance. You know dad!"

Dean answered with false brightness.

"Yeah. I do know, dad. The man's a dick! Stop making excuses for him, Dean! He can't even be bothered to phone his sons' on Christmas Day."

"Leave it, Sam."

Dean answered angrily. He was too tired and too sore to go through all this again with Sam right now.

"There're a hundred reasons he might not be able to get to the phone. Hell, this is why I waited till you were out of the room. Can't we just leave it? For once, couldn't we have a Christmas without any freaking arguments? Dad's not even here and you're mad at him!"

Dean's hands shook against the armrest and his breathing came in heavy rasps.

Sam bit back his bitter retort, taking note of the effect the angry altercation had already had upon his shattered sibling.

"Uh, look. I'm sorry, Dean. You're right. It's Christmas. Forget I said anything, Okay?"

Dean just nodded slowly, his eyes downcast.

Sam took the handles of the Christmas Chariot, avoiding the sprigs of mistletoe that hung so cheerily from the thick padding. Carefully, he manoeuvred the wheelchair out towards the doors.

"Still snowing?"

Dean asked casually.

"Yeah, not so heavy now though. The car's nice and toasty. Dean, you sure you feel well enough to go, you look beat, dude?"

"Nah, I'm fine, just tired. Maybe a little sore is all. Come on, let's make a move?"

"Okay, Dean. Let's go collect the Christmas Elf."

The End

Thanks to all who have read and especially those who reviewed. We \really enjoyed reading your kind words.


	18. Chapter 18 Epilogue Part Two

So here is the final part of The Twelve Saves of Christmas. We really hope you have enjoyed it and will maybe come back to join us on the follow on story. It doesn't have a title yet and will be a few weeks but we expect Evie and Charles will be making a return appearance.

Thanks to everyone who has read, and particularly those who reviewed. And to our wonderful beta, Kirsty. Many thanks. (By the way this chapter is un-beta'd as I was too tardy in writing it to get it to Kirsty in time so the mistakes are all our fault!)

Thanks again also to Cal for the lovely banner and to Kripke for giving us his boys.

**The Twelve Saves of Christmas**

**Epilogue**

**4.15pm Christmas Day**

Evie's home was much as Dean had expected it to be, orderly and modern but softened by little personal touches that identified it as hers. He took in the photos of family and friends that broke the starkness of the cream walls and noted that a number of them were of a younger Evie and a laughing man he knew now as James.

There was a tranquillity about that house, a sense of calm, that seeped into his bones soothing him and he found himself feeling comfortable in the atmosphere. A glance at Sam, reassured him that his brother felt so too. Moreover, the house was warm after the chill of being outside in the crisp, snowy air, and he was shaking with the cold, so, all in all Dean had to admit he was pleased to be inside.

However, as he sat in the wheelchair he felt way more shaky than he would like and he wondered if accepting the invitation had been a good idea. His fever was sending chills coursing through him at a rate of knot's and he was finding it difficult to do anything other than stay upright and keep his eyes from closing.

Still, he knew he owed Sam a better Christmas than this one had been so far and so the fragile hunter plastered on his best attempt at a convincing smile, and worked on trying to look suitably engaged in the festivities.

Evie hugged Charles and Sam as she fussed about them, taking their coats and handing Charles his apron. She was genuinely pleased to see the three men, her old, faithful Charles and her two new friends, Sam and Dean, for whom her affection was increasing each time she saw them.

She glanced at the elder Winchester as he sat in the bedecked wheelchair and noted his pallor. She was not surprised he looked so poorly, after what he and Sam had been through, but she was surprised at the concern that his condition fired within her.

For long enough it had been her and Charles against the world and even though she had known these boys so little time, she knew they were destined to be special to her.

She needed to move things along so she could have Sam move Dean somewhere more comfortable so, she briskly took charge of events.

"I've fired her up, Charles."

Evie gestured towards the yard at the back of the house, from where the pleasant aroma of wood smoke and charcoal drifted.

"And everything's laid out on the table ready to go!"

Charles nodded happily as he tied on his protective apron. It was bedecked with a picture of a turkey with long eyelashes, red lipstick and the dubious epithet, 'Go figure, I've finally pulled a bird!' Clearly it was inappropriate, yet at the same time, utterly apt for the theatrical gastronome.

"Okay, Evelyn. I'll go get cooking."

The dapper cook turned and headed towards the back porch.

"Bring me a glass of eggnog?"

"Sure thing, Charles. We'll be out shortly."

Evie smiled as she turned back to the hunter's and she moved to stand before Dean's chair, hanging onto the arm rests and bending so she crouched before its occupant. She stared into eyes that were the deepest green she had ever seen, and marvelled as lashes way too long to be a man's swept sleepily over them. She realised, when this man was not beat to hell he was a total heart breaker!

"So, Dean...Can I get a hug?"

The elder Winchester's head swam as he leaned forward, but he joined warmly in the embrace even though his stiff, sore body trembled in protest. If truth be known Dean took as much comfort from the hug as Evie did though it'd take wild horses to drag that out of him!

" Let's get your big coat off you. I've got the big space heaters lit so it's warm enough on the deck to manage without this."

She was unbuttoning Dean's sheepskin as she spoke, and, with a little help from Sam, they soon had the coat removed with minimal discomfort for its wearer.

"Come this way, boys."

Evie took the handles of the chair and wheeled Dean through the spacious house and out of the French doors at the rear of the property. The doors opened onto a large wooden deck, which was lit by strings of fairy lights and the soft glow of two wood burning chiminea.

At one end, a very professional looking barbeque set up was chugging out heat and delicious aromas, captained by Charles. He had his Santa hat back on and was humming Christmas tunes as he cooked. He waved his spatula at them as they emerged.

The other end of the wooden patio was covered by an awning and heated to toasty warm by three strategically placed space heaters. It held big, comfortable looking lounge chairs and side tables, on one of which sat James' journal, and one steamer chair draped in a soft faux fur throw.

"So..."

Evie parked the wheelchair beside the steamer chair and bent to put the brakes on.

"I thought you'd be more comfortable here, Dean?"

She glanced at Sam as she spoke, motioning him over, even as Dean began to protest that he would be fine on a chair, and with a minimum of fuss they transferred the softly protesting hunter to the comfort of his impromptu 'bed'.

"See?"

Evie smiled as she settled a cushion behind Dean's bandaged knee and wrapped the furs around him.

"Comfy, isn't it?"

Dean had to admit that it felt good to lay his leg out straight and the fur covering was warm and soft. He smiled accepting that she was gonna mother-hen him and he might as well just take it. He rolled his eyes good naturedly at Sam, who smiled in return.

"Have a seat, Sam."

The younger hunter gratefully folded his long body into one of the generous lounge chairs.

"So what can I get you both to drink? Will you try my egg-nog?"

Dean shuddered a little. He had been traumatised on a number of Christmases by Sam's attempts at festive faire and the thought of egg-nog now, when he felt significantly fragile, filled him with trepidation. However, he didn't want to hurt Evie's feelings.

"Sure. I'll give it a go, Evie."

Dean's voice was a little hoarse and Evelyn cocked her head studying him as she ladled the viscous, yellow liquid into small punch glasses. His trembling had lessened now he was settled by the heater and he looked a little more alert. She would keep an eye on him though.

She took the filled glasses and handed one carefully to Dean, holding it steady until she was sure he had a firm grip on it with his bandaged hands. She passed the second glass to Sam.

"I'll just give this to Charles."

Evie stepped away from them along the decking, out of earshot, and Dean looked at Sam as he gingerly raised the suspicious brew to his nose and sniffed. His expression was one of unhappy resignation.

"I wonder if she uses Bobby's recipe too, Sam?"

Dean inhaled the egg-nog as he grinned at Sam's feigned look of hurt and was delighted to find his nose assaulted by a quite delicious aroma. Spirit mixed with the spice of nutmeg and cinnamon and the creaminess of eggs and milk had Dean's mouth watering. He raised his glass to his lips and sipped. The spicy-cream concoction warmed all the way down to his toes and Dean purred contentedly as he took another mouthful.

Sam smiled as he heard Dean's sigh of contentment. The drink was indeed good. Better by legions than Bobby's. He made a note to get the recipe from Evie before they left. It'd be worth Dean ridiculing him about being all 'Martha Stewart' if he could reproduce this elixir and make Dean smile so contentedly.

"So, how is it? Terrible? I never know how much rum to put in..."

Evie found two empty glasses thrust toward her and took that, and the brothers smiles, as endorsement enough as she re-filled their glasses and then moved to join them.

"Dinner won't be long."

She glanced lovingly at Charles, catching his eye and the contented chef raised his egg-nog toward them as he tossed the burgers. Sam watched the interchange and couldn't help but see the particular closeness between the two friends.

"How did you meet Charles, Evelyn?"

Evie turned back to the Winchesters.

"He just turned up in the diner one day, not long after I lost James..."

She glanced at the journal on the table next to Sam as she spoke; her voice was wistful, nostalgic.

"The diner was struggling then. It had thrived before the mill crashed but afterwards...well, I wasn't so popular afterwards."

She paused, the memories of hard times assaulting her and Sam watched as Dean untangled his hand from the furs and gently touched her hand, where it lay on the arm of her chair. Evie smiled at him and patted his hand.

"It's okay. It was all a long time ago and having this..."

She reached the journal into her lap.

"Will help me piece it all together."

"So, Charles..?"

Sam prompted, sipping his egg-nog.

"As I said, Charles just turned up one day. He ate and paid his bill, didn't say much and I thought he was just passing through and I'd never see him again."

She laughed, glancing at the singing man.

"But he appeared again the day after and then every day that week."

The memory was a good one and Dean and Sam smiled at her pleasure.

"He tried every dish on the menu, just about. And we just got to talking as he ate... He'd been in the forces."

She glanced briefly again towards her friend.

"He never said much about where he'd been, but what he'd seen had..."

She searched for the words as Sam and Dean waited patiently.

"Had...changed him... Hurt him."

She looked up from her reverie and into Dean's eyes.

"Charles is a good man. He did things, saw things in his service that were hard to reconcile. I think it stole something from him. It was hard for him to have peace of mind when I first knew him and it took a long time for him to find his way back to himself."

Dean nodded. Much of what she said resonating for him.

"So, we looked out for each other. Charles went to work at the Holy Night Inn, as a bus-boy, at first, but he's real good with people and before long he was on reception, and then hotel manager. And he stuck with me, being my friend, helping me to carry on living here in the aftermath of the mill crash. I don't know what I'd have done without Charles."

They sat in quiet contemplation for a moment or two, sipping their drinks, contentedly. The sun was almost set and the myriad little pin lights sparkled in the twilight as the delicious smells of the barbeque wafted towards them. Without realising he was doing it, Dean sighed gently.

"You okay, Dean?"

Sam sat upright; preparing to move to his brother's side but Dean raised his hand and stopped the motion.

"I'm fine, Sammy...just..."

A pleasantly surprised look crossed his pale features.

"Just...content!"

It was a word unfamiliar to the Winchesters vocabulary and Sam laughed a little as Dean said it. Evie smiled, understanding that she had just been given a huge compliment. To provide comfort and contentment, if only for a small while, for these boys was a rare thing. She patted Dean's hand and his sleepy green eyes found her face. He looked utterly exhausted and Evelyn's heart went out him.

"You look so tired, Dean..."

She glanced at Sam too. Similar grey shadows circles the younger man's hazel eyes as decorated his older brother's green.

"You both do. Did you boys sleep at all?"

Her concern dripped from the words and Dean did his best to look animated.

"Oh Hell, yeah, we did!"

He sat a little bit straighter.

"You should see the room Charles got us, Evie...it's..."

He raised his hands before him, sloshing the remaining egg-nog in his enthusiasm. Sam reached for the glass and taking it from Dean's bandaged hand, placed it back on the table.

"Well, it's just...huge!"

Evie laughed at the child-like wonder in this fierce hunter's voice.

"Ahh! He got you the presidential suite huh?"

Sam nodded.

"It is impressive...Did you sleep in the big canopied bed?"

Sam laughed.

"Yeah, we both did. I sat on the bed just for a moment and I was away. Woke up snuggled up on the red silk sheets with my own brother!"

Evie joined in the laughter as Dean looked hurt.

"Sammy. Many people would kill for that privilege."

"In your dreams, bro."

Sam challenged.

"Bite me!"

Dean snarked.

Evie raised her hands, and pretended to push them apart.

"Enough, children!"

She scolded, and both brothers softened.

"What about you? Did you sleep, Evie?"

Sam nodded his head towards the journal in her lap as he asked the question and she took it into her hands as she answered.

"No, not really. I know I said I'd take my time about reading it but after all these years of waiting I needed to know so I read quite a lot of James' entries last night."

She stroked the tattered leather of the book as she spoke.

"It was much as I thought, but have never been able to prove. It's not that I wanted to have it be them, you know? The Harvey's, Lyman and Elwood, were James' best friends as well as his business partners."

The brothers' expressions of sorrow affirmed their shared understanding.

"When I read back some months from the last entry, James' had suspicions for a long time that Lyman was up to something. And if I think back to that time, James'd tell me little things that, when they are now all joined together, confirm that Lyman was, undoubtedly, the instigator of the crimes."

Evie lifted the book and opened it to a marked page.

"James is talking here, about a month before that final hike, about how Lyman's attitude toward the business has changed. The mill was teetering by this stage, because we now know Lyman was bleeding it dry, but there was a big order pending that, had they filled, it would have really bailed them out."

She tapped her finger against the page as she looked at Sam. He was engrossed in the story and bobbed his head encouragingly as Evie spoke. Dean looked on tiredly from his warm, furry nest, Sam's 'geek-boy' research excitement never failing to amuse him. Evie continued.

"James was working flat out to get the order moved through and they were on schedule but then we had to go out of state for a few days to an old friend's funeral. James left Lyman in charge but when we came back it was to the cancellation of the order. The customer had rung Lyman to check everything was okay and had been treated with such rudeness that he had pulled the whole thing.

James was furious. I remember when he came home from work that day he was agitated and upset. He wouldn't tell me at the time what was wrong, wanted to save me from worrying..."

Evie stopped, snorting in annoyance.

"Can you believe that? I was his wife and he kept things of such importance from me?"

Dean looked at Sam and raised his eyebrows ironically. They were so used to secrets and being told only what they 'needed to know' that James' with holding of the truth seemed quite usual to them. Sam's eyes told Dean that he understood and the younger Winchester answered the furious woman.

"He thought he was protecting you."

Evie shook her head angrily.

"He 'protected' me all the way to getting himself murdered on the damn mountain, though, didn't he? If he'd let me in maybe I could have helped."

Dean's hand slipped softly into Evie's and her words faltered the anger dissipating. She turned toward him and his wide green eyes drew her to him.

"He thought he was doing the right thing, Evie. Protecting you...he just wanted it to...to be alright for you."

Evie wrapped her hands about Dean's, carefully of his injuries. She could see his distress at her anger and regretted doing anything to upset this man who had done so much for her. He had brought her James back to her after all.

"I know, Dean. I'm just angry 'cause..."

She couldn't find the right words.

"Just because."

She spoke deliberately gently and smiled into his tired gaze as she did. The tension left him and she was relieved as he lay back into the covers.

"Evie?"

Sam had sat forward in his chair and pointed to the journal on her lap as he spoke.

"We did read a little bit of the journal when we were on the mountain..."

He paused to see if that would be a problem to Evie. She nodded.

"You can read it, Sam. I don't mind and I know James doesn't."

"James mentioned that when Lyman shot..."

He stopped, realising this might not be a conversation to have on Christmas day. Evie saw his hesitation.

"It's alright, Sam. You can say it...when Lyman shot James..?"

"Well, yeah, he wrote that Lyman's eyes were inhuman...black...Do you know what he meant?"

Evelyn shuddered visibly as she absorbed Sam's question.

"I remember seeing Lyman a few weeks before all this happened, Sam. I'd gone to the mill to have collect James 'cause his truck had broken down. So I was waiting outside in the parking lot for him to come down. Lyman drove up in this real fancy sports car. I was surprised because Lyman had always had a regular car and this was...well flashy, you know?"

Sam nodded.

"He was doing things out of character?"

Sam asked as he sipped at his drink. Evie thought for a moment or two.

"Yeah...yeah he was. Not just the car either, Sam. There were rumours he was having an affair with a girl in town. She was only young, way too young to be interested in a middle aged man like Lyman, but she was unhappy at home..."

She looked from Sam to Dean.

"I'd forgotten some of this stuff. I had told myself that Lyman only changed after James died but that wasn't the case. It started weeks before. I thought, at first, it was grief from James' death maybe, or then later, the pain of his own wife's sudden death..."

"Lyman's wife died?"

Sam's face was animated with interest.

"Yeah, about a month after James. They said it was a suicide."

"Well, I'll be."

Dean mumbled softly looking at Sam. The injured hunter noted Sam's raised eyebrow as he moved round in the chair. Evie saw the caution he used in adjusting position. It radiated hurt.

"Are you ok, Dean? Can I get you anything?"

He smiled.

"No I'm good. Just a bit stiff is all."

It was a plausible answer but no one believed it.

"Are you warm enough?"

She reached for Dean, feeling his forearm where it was uncovered. His skin was cool there. Evie tutted and leaned over to feel his forehead. Dean edged back, dodging her hand but the sharp movement made the horizon tilt and buck a little. He stilled quickly, his hands going to the arms of the chair to steady himself.

"I'm fine..."

He managed, clamping down on anything else as his vision swam making him slightly nauseous.

"No, you're not."

Evie reasoned, rising her hand slowly towards his forehead. Her eyes were fiery and her manner, determined.

"You are banged up to hell, dizzy by the look of it and you have a fever. By rights you should be in hospital recuperating and if you don't let me feel your head to see how hot you are, I'll call Charles over and ask him to take you there. Right now!"

Dean frowned, about to argue. He disliked being told what to do, especially when he knew the teller was right.

Evie watched the older hunter's mouth pout and knew an argument was coming her way. She stifled it, effectively, if a little unfairly, by leaning in towards Dean and placing her hand on his fur draped thigh. It required only the slightest pressure to make Dean lean forward gasping in pain and as he did so, Evie pressed her hand to his burning forehead, releasing his leg as she did so.

"Oh, Dean! You're burning up."

He looked at her but couldn't respond as his breath was still coming in little pants.

"Charles!"

Evelyn had stood and called for her medic friend before Sam could get to Dean's side. He crouched and put his hand on Dean's forehead, only for it to be swatted away angrily.

"Gt...f..me..!"

Dean shook his hand where it throbbed from hitting Sam.

"'Mfine!"

He muttered looking daggers at the assembled gathering.

"Evie's right. You are hot, Dean."

Sam reasoned as Charles approached. The medic nodded, hearing Sam's words and dipped into a bag resting on one of the tables. He pulled out a thermometer and moved in towards his very reluctant patient.

"Charles...I'm fine."

Dean ground the words out. Pain and annoyance making his eyes sparkle.

"Well, that is I was till she grabbed my leg!"

He stared at Evie, who smiled irritatingly down at him.

"I can't believe you'd do that..."

He rubbed carefully at his throbbing leg as Charles moved closer.

"Well, Dean, if you'd just cooperate..."

Evie's smile told him she was not to be meddled with.

"Open up, Dean."

The medic sat on the chair beside the still slightly breathless Dean and held the thermometer up to his mouth.

"No, Charles...I'm okay, really."

Dean was distressed to find that it sounded like a whine, and he looked to Sam for support, only to see his brother's smile match Evie's.

"I think your beaten, bro."

Sam laughed and Dean scowled, pressing his lips together in a petulant line.

"Okay, Charles..."

Evie's voice was determined.

"Fetch the car. We're going to hospital."

Dean looked at the medic, his eyes blazing.

"She means it, Dean."

Charles smiled softly.

"She hadda be real tough to survive in this town after the mill crashed. She has balls of steel. You won't win."

He offered the thermometer again and after a few seconds of furious refusal, Dean opened his mouth and Charles popped the device in. After a few moments he withdrew the little measure and read off Dean's temperature.

"It's around 101f, Sam."

Charles looked up at the tall hunter.

"How's that usually sit with Dean?"

Charles knew better than to pretend that these men had not experienced fevers many times before. Sam's face was serious but not overwhelmingly alarmed.

"He's been much higher, Charles."

The medic nodded.

"Pass me my case."

Sam reached the heavy bag over.

"But he does get real bad if it's very high. Hadda dunk him in a bath of cold water before now because he was rambling."

"Sam!"

Dean barked out the admonishment and his baby brother looked at him, his face all innocence.

"What? It's true isn't it?"

Dean refused to answer but reluctantly held out his hand and took the pills Charles had removed from his case.

"You need a drink to swallow them..."

Charles looked at Evie as Dean muttered.

"I'll have egg-nog!"

"You'll have water..."

The medic corrected.

"Evie?"

She nodded and reached for a jug of water from the drinks table. She brought the tall, cool glass and offered it to Dean.

"I want egg-nog."

He sulked.

"And you're getting water."

Evie was all reason as she handed the glass to him.

"Take the pills, Dean."

Charles said as he rose heading back to the barbeque.

"They'll help with the fever. Oh and by the way dinner's almost ready!"

Sam sat back down, an amused smile playing at his lips as he watched Evie and Dean play off against each other.

"Take them or I'll hurt you."

Evie screwed her eyes up as she stared at Dean. She was a good 6 inches smaller than his brother and weighed 50lbs less at least, but Sam knew she meant it. And what was more, Dean did too.

"Alright, alright..!"

Dean spat as he swallowed the pills and tried to hand the glass back to the triumphant woman. She pushed it back towards him.

"All of it, you're dehydrated."

He sighed and sulkily sipped at the cool water.

"So, Evie can we go back to that day when you went to pick James up?"

Sam twirled his empty egg-nog glass in his hands as he spoke.

"Sure, Sam. You want a top up?"

She took his glass, and laughing at Dean's look of outrage, refilled it with egg-nog before resuming her seat. Sam grinned sipping the sweet delight whilst Dean shot fire from his eyes at his infuriating brother from behind his water glass.

"So you were in the lot..?"

Sam supplied and Evie took up the narrative.

"Yes, yes I was and Lyman came over to me. He was..."

She paused looking for the words, her face creased in concentration.

"It was like he was there but not really. He talked and it was Lyman talking but nothing was really registering."

She glanced at Sam. He nodded, encouraging her on.

"And his eyes, Evie?"

Sam looked at Dean as he asked the question and Dean nodded.

"They were black, Sam. Glassy and black. I remember it frightened me."

She glanced down at her hands for a second or two, before looking back up to Sam.

"And I don't frighten easily."

The brothers nodded, taking in the information.

"So what does it mean?"

Evie's gaze engaged Sam's but he turned from her to Dean and Evie's eyes followed his to the elder Winchester.

"Tell me, Dean. I have a right to know."

She said softly and Dean sighed, nodding reluctantly.

"Yeah, you do. But you might regret it, Evie."

He paused giving her the chance to change her mind, knowing all the time that she wouldn't. He continued.

"We think, that Lyman Harvey was possessed by a demon. It was the demon that made him do what he did."

"Demon?"

She put her hand to her face, paling slightly.

"You mean as in actual, spawn of the devil, demon?"

Dean nodded, amazed, and yet not so, knowing Evelyn, at the calmness with which she was taking this in.

"And you know about all this, how?"

Dean said nothing but just looked at her. Evie spoke her next words quietly, horror underlying them.

"You know because these are the 'things'... the 'creatures' that you and Sam hunt. Aren't they, Dean?"

Her fierce gaze commanded the hunter's attention and he smiled at her steely determination. He knew there was no point lying to her and he was surprised to find that he wanted to tell her. Wanted to confide in her.

"Yes, Evie. This is what we do. Our family business. We hunt evil and we destroy it."

She lowered her hand and took Dean's in hers.

"This must be so dangerous?"

Tears welled in her eyes, imagining what these men must face on a daily basis. She reached for Sam's hand too.

"I'm so glad you have each other."

Dean nodded, glancing toward Sam, his throat tight on the lump there.

"So am I."

He croaked.

wWw

Charles had to swallow hard as he approached his friends but he kept the tears that were brimming in his eyes from falling and he had to take a moment to gather himself before he could call cheerfully to the assembled trio.

"Okay, so burgers are nicely seared, who's hungry?"

Sam was the first to look up and at the mention of food he was surprised to find that his stomach was growling significantly.

"Yes, please, Charles."

Evie was quick to follow.

"You gonna help me serve, Evie?"

She rose, reluctantly letting go of Dean's hand but smiling at Charles.

"Sure, I'm coming."

She looked down at Dean.

"You gonna manage something to eat?"

"Of course I am."

Dean said

"Thought you'd never ask!"

Dean grinned tiredly as he responded and even managed to hold the smile till Evie had her back all the way turned. It was then that Sam watched the smile give way to exhaustion.

As the others returned to the barbeque he moved from his chair to the one Evie had been sitting in, nearer to Dean. His brother's tired green eyes watched as he sat.

"How you doing?"

Sam watched as Dean attempted to find his 'm okay' game face...and failed.

"Felt better, Sammy."

Dean's head rolled back against the covers pillowing him and Sam could hear the tiredness in his words.

"You wanna head back to the hotel?"

Dean blinked, thinking about the question.

"Nah, I am hungry, I'm just a bit tired too. Let's eat and then maybe go, okay?"

Sam smiled.

"Sure, Dean. You comfortable?"

Dean made to try and sit up but didn't make it very far.

"I've slipped down a bit..."

Sam stood.

"Lemme give you a boost."

He leaned in towards his brother and put his arms around Dean's waist.

"Hold onto me."

He felt Dean's arms go round his neck.

"Ready?"

"Ummm."

Mumbled against his shoulder and he gently hutched Dean's slumped form up the couch.

"Oh! Sam...Hurts!"

Dean gasped and Sam felt the arms leave his neck as his brother grabbed his injured leg. Moving him had dislodged Dean's knee from its cushioned support, painfully extending the swollen joint. Sam hurried and carefully repacked the cushions, easing his brother's leg back down.

Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder knowing that his brother was biting down on pain and, no doubt, dizziness, and his touch might help him find some stability.

"Sorry, bro."

Dean's eyes opened and the world spun. He found Sam and concentrated on his brother's face and slowly the revolutions steadied.

"Sure you don't wanna leave?"

Sam asked again as Evie and Charles approached, their hands laden with brimming plates.

"No, I really am hungry and it's...well this is nice, Sam, isn't it?"

Dean managed a weak smile and Sam felt relieved.

"Yeah, it real nice, Dean."

wWw

The food was good and Charles and Evie were fine company as they ate. The burgers were homemade from prime steak and tastier than Sam and Dean could normally dream of. They talked about all sorts of things and Dean managed to stay engaged in the conversation if not the leader of it.

Sam finished his own burger in no time at all and accepted a second without too much persuasion, Charles happily accepting the young hunter's compliments on his cooking. And he was pleased to see that Dean made a decent attempt at his meal though he declined seconds in favour of a piece of cherry pie.

However as the evening wore on Sam could see Dean's energy dissipating and he spent longer periods with his eyes closed as the others spoke.

wWw

"Dean?"

He heard the voice distantly and had to work hard to get his eyes to open at the third or forth attempt. Evie was holding his sheepskin coat as she sat beside him and Charles and Sam were standing putting on theirs.

"Don't tell me...we gonna go build a snowman..."

Dean grinned as Evie laughed out loud, her eyes sparkling with merriment.

"If you're up for it, Winchester!"

There was a sympathetic challenge in her voice but Dean had no energy left to rise to it.

"Maybe tomorrow?"

His voice was a whisper.

"Sure, Dean."

She smiled. It was a soft, sad smile and he felt his heart ache for her and her loss.

"I'm sorry about James..."

She swallowed hard and he saw the tears brim in her eyes.

"Don't be sorry, Dean. You brought him back to me. Saved me from a life time more of never knowing. And most of all you let James be at peace."

She reached out and touched his face as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"How much more could I possibly ask?"

"We can bring him down from the mountain if you want."

Dean wanted so much to do something to ease her pain. She smiled at him, sensing his need.

"Maybe, although he loved the mountain, Dean. There are worse places for him to lie. Especially now he can finally rest."

Dean smiled tiredly.

"Okay, if you're sure."

Sam moved to the other side of the steamer chair.

"You ready to go, dude?"

Dean nodded.

"Wait!"

Evie's voice dripped tension and all three men in the room looked toward her. She stood, clasping the sheepskin in her arms.

"You know what you told me about Lyman...being possessed by the demon and all?"

Sam and Dean nodded in unison.

"Could Lyman...no not really Lyman it was the demon, wasn't it? He could have murdered his poor wife?"

Horror at the sudden thought was written all over Evie's face and Dean was saddened to think he had brought this horror into her life.

"Yes."

Sam answered the shocked woman calmly but honestly.

"It could have, yes."

"Was the death suspicious?"

Evie nodded, putting her hand to her mouth.

"We all assumed she killed herself because after she died Lyman told us she'd been unstable for years..."

Tears prickled Evie's eyes and she reached for Dean's hand, looking into his bright green eyes.

"But I'd known Jenn and she was as stable as me. Oh my god, poor woman! I should have helped her."

Dean squeezed his friend's hand.

"You didn't know, Evie. You couldn't have done anything anyway."

"I could have found you...and Sam."

Dean opened his mouth to speak and stopped as she held her hand up.

"What will have happened to it? The demon?"

Dean looked at Sam, his gaze saying 'how much do I tell her?' Sam shrugged, trusting to Dean's intuition.

"They tend to move from host to host, Evie. They ride a body hard and often leave the host damaged, if not dead..."

Evie's gasp stopped Dean in his tracks, unsure what he had said.

Charles moved closer so he could place his hand on Evelyn's shoulder. She raised her own trembling hand to cover his.

"Lyman is still alive, Dean, but in a psychiatric hospital over in Philadelphia. Crazy as anything. Hears voices its said, sees things that other people don't!"

He squeezed Evie's shoulder knowing this was painful for her.

"We tracked him and Elwood for a while after they left Bethlehem. Elwood died a few months after they fled. He supposedly committed suicide too."

Dean raised his eyebrows at Charles. The man's face was angry and Dean understood his emotion.

"Lyman re-married, into a successful business family over Harrisburg way."

"Lemme guess..."

Sam's voice was regretful.

"Business went belly up?"

Charles nodded.

"And Mrs Harvey...Lyman's wife died suddenly."

"Oh God!"

Evie got to her feet, wringing her hands.

"That's it, isn't it? It's the...the demon...burning its way through people?"

Dean looked up at her, trying to get to his feet to offer her comfort. He got as far as throwing the wrap off himself and starting to try and move his legs but the pain stopped him swiftly and efficiently.

He saw stars. Little fire flashes of colour that danced on the inside of his tightly closed eyelids and he panted against the burning pain in his knee. He knew there was more than one person holding him steady as he rocked against the pain and gradually is lessened to the point where he dared think about opening his eyes again.

That was a mistake as with the light came the dizziness and nausea.

"You gonna puke?"

Sam's voice, to his right hand side.

He grunted in response, squeezing them shut again.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

Evie, to his left. Dean couldn't answer, not daring to open his mouth.

"That's Dean for no."

Sam's voice again.

'_Good old, Sammy. Even understands my grunts and groans!'_

"He'll be fine."

Sam's big hand rubbed circles on Dean's back and the dizziness slowly subsided, though his knee throbbed unmercifully. Finally, he dared to open his eyes again. Three worried faces were watching him.

"'M'okay."

His voice sounded anything but okay, but the others nodded and scaled down from DefCon 5.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Evie stroked his taut bicep, her worried face intent on his.

"It's okay, Evie, this is all a shock for you, I know."

She nodded.

"We have to stop it. If it's still out there. Will you and Sam help me? We need to find this demon and... "

Evie paused, her forehead creased in a frown.

"What do you do to these sonsabitches anyway? Can you...you know...kill the bastards?"

Dean was taken aback.

"Evie, we..."

"I can pay you. Please help me! We have to make sure this thing doesn't do to another family what it did to James and me."

There was no resisting the need in her eyes but Dean glanced up at Sam, checking for his brother's approval before he spoke. Sam rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Okay, Evie. We'll hunt it for ya. We'll stop it killing anyone else."

Evelyn sighed in relief.

"Once you're better though!"

Dean went to speak to find Evie's hand poised over his leg and a playfully evil look on her face. He closed his mouth.

"You stay here and recuperate for a few days before you make a single move after it. Alright?"

Sam laughed at his brother's silence and the nervous look on his face as her hand remained poised over his sore leg.

"Sure, Evie. We'll have research to do anyway and Dean loves to sit and do research. Don't ya, Bro?"

Dean groaned, letting his head slump forward in genuine, but theatrical, distress.

"God, help me!"

The three of them laughed at the defeated hunter as Charles broke in.

"Hey Dean, I can take you for that ride in the Aston..."

Dean's eyes slowly levelled up to the smiling medics and Sam saw the dawning realisation cross his brother's face that he had indeed agreed to a ride from Charles.

"Umm..!"

Dean's smile was a little nervous and Charles laughed.

"Dean, Dean! What do you take me for? I wouldn't take advantage of an injured man. I have morals you know?"

Dean stuttered an answer, not wanting to offend their new friend.

"Oh sure, Charles. I didn't mean to imply..."

Charles cut him off.

"I'm gonna wait till your all better for that. It'll be more fun that way!"

They all laughed as Dean actually blushed and Evie put her hand on Charles arm.

"Enough! Stop tormenting him, Charles. Look we'll talk again tomorrow. Work out a plan, Okay?"

She looked at both Dean and Sam, and they nodded in unison.

"But now you need to go sleep and get well."

She received no argument from anyone.

"Good!"

She looked at Charles and Sam.

"Let's get Dean up and his coat on."

Both men moved in as Evie reached for the long fleece.

"I can help..."

Dean made to move and Evie barked.

"No!"

They all stopped immediately.

"Dean, you sit still and let us sort you out, you hear me?"

The elder Winchester nodded obediently and between them, with Evie directing the manoeuvre soon had him, coat fastened, seated in the wheelchair.

"You okay?"

Her voice was soft when she saw his pallor. They had been as gentle as they could be but she knew the transition had hurt.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

She nodded, understanding the tidal wave of emotion that sat behind those words for this good and brave man.

She stood and taking the handles of the chair, wheeled her guest toward the front door.

The wind was cold, as they approached the Impala, the space heaters having belied the frosty night when they were on the decking and Sam watched Dean shiver, pulling the coat around him.

"Put's your hands in the pockets, Dean."

He cautioned.

"I'll be back in a moment. Don't go till I get back!"

Suddenly Evie gave the handles of the chair to Charles and dashed back into the house as the bemused hunters progressed to the car.

Getting Dean into the Impala was easy, if you ignored his muffled gasps of pain at each movement. However, they did the best they could and by the time Evelyn returned the flagging hunter was ensconced on the passenger seat, and his breathing was relatively under control.

She crouched by the open passenger door and handed him a faded Christmas- wrapped package.

"I want you to have these."

Dean smiled in confusion.

"Open it!"

He tried to tear the paper but his wrapped hands were cold and clumsy.

"Here."

She took the package and tore open the end pulling the contents lose so Dean could grab then.

The brown gloves were soft and pliant, the sweet smell of good leather drifted into the Impala.

"They're ...lovely."

Dean smiled sleepily up at her, turning the gloves over in his hands.

"How did you know I needed gloves?"

Evie laughed.

"I didn't. They were for James. That last Christmas. I'd already wrapped them but he never came home to me. I kept them all this time, hoping one day..."

Tears tricked down her cheeks just as they pricked in Dean's eyes.

"So now you've brought him home at last and I want you to have these."

Dean swallowed, unable to speak as Evie smiled her understanding.

"Here, let's see if they fit!"

She carefully pulled the soft leather over his bandages.

"They'll keep you warm."

"Are you sure?"

Dean was hesitant to take the gift, understanding its significance for her.

"Yes."

She beamed.

"They should be of use, not wrapped up somewhere gathering dust. We have a job to do, don't we? Got us a demon to catch!"

"Sure we do, Evie."

Dean smiled as she kissed his cheek.

"So go sleep, Winchester!"

Charles and Sam climbed into the car and as they drove away Dean craned his neck around so he could watch Evelyn Tannenbaum through the rear window as she waved goodbye.

His eyes met Charles' and the medic smiled at the sleepy hunter.

"She's quite a woman isn't she?"

"Hell, yeah, Charles. She's amazing!"

wWw

The ride back to the Holy Night Inn was uneventful, Dean falling asleep as soon as the familiar cadence of the car kicked in and both Charles and Sam were relieved as he was clearly in pain.

When they arrived the transition from car to wheelchair was an ordeal and by the time Sam said good night to Charles at their bedroom door, Dean was almost out of it. His head was pounding and there wasn't a muscle or joint that didn't seem to just plain hurt!

Sam crouched in front of the wheelchair and looked into his brother's drooping eyes.

"Straight to bed for you, I think?"

Dean nodded unable to even bother to think of an argument and Sam started to set about gently getting his clothes off. He eased the new gloves off his brother's swollen hands, smiling at the softness of the expensive leather.

"Beautiful, aren't they?"

Dean's voice was sleepy and Sam nodded emphatically to be sure he saw the gesture.

"I won't dare wear them in case I mess 'em up..."

Dean drawled softly and Sam laughed.

"Well, if you don't I will!"

He pouted jealously.

"She didn't give me gloves did she?"

Dean chuckled as Sam unbuttoned his sheepskin and rocked him gently to the front of the chair.

"Come on, man..."

Dean paused biting down on the pain.

"I did get thrown off a cliff by her dead husband's vengeful spirit!"

Sam nodded, concentrating on holding Dean to give him least pain.

"Ready? On three?"

Dean gasped as Sam got him to his feet. He could just about stand to bear weight on his broken toes but his knee just would not bear his weight and had it not been for Sam's bear hug he would have fallen, bonelessly to the floor.

He barely remembered the steps to the bed but the feel of the silk sheets against his back were nice as Sam laid him on the bed and carefully relieved him of his boots and jeans and pulled the covers over him.

"You okay, Dean?"

"Un huh..."

Hard to even open his eyes now. '_Wait though! The Christmas presents."_

"S..Sam!"

The younger hunter started as Dean called out and started to rise.

"Steady, stay still, you'll get dizzy again."

Dean did as he was told as the room flew around sickeningly and Sam sat on the side of the bed, his hand on Dean's chest centring him.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Sam's worried face swam before Dean's eyes.

"The presents...we didn't open our presents..."

Sam laughed, relieved.

"Is that all? I thought at least your leg had fallen off, or maybe Charles had come to have his wicked way with ya after all!"

Dean grinned.

"You're just jealous 'cause he wants me not you."

"Yeah, yeah!"

Sam stood and looked down at his brother as Dean yawned.

"Where are they?"

"What?"

"The presents!"

Sam rolled his eyes and Dean chuckled.

"Oh yeah! In my grip I think."

Sam crossed the vast room and rummaged in the bag producing two thin, blue and white stripy carrier bags.

"Here you go, Dean."

He placed his bag on Dean's lap and sat on the side of the bed and watched as his brother withdrew a heady mixture of candy and porn.

Dean smiled a warm genuine smile.

"Thank you, Sam. Two of my favourite things. Very cool."

Sam nodded accepting a smaller bag from Dean's shaky hand.

The gloves were knitted and a rather violent shade of purple, but Sam smiled and pulled then onto his huge hands.

"They fit!"

He laughed and Dean grinned.

"They were the only ones in the gigantor section. I know they're not classy leather but they will keep your fingers from dropping off as we hunt this demon for Evie."

Sam turned his hands this way and that admiring the gloves.

"I like 'em, Dean."

He shifted the chocolate bars and skin magazines to the bedside table.

"Get some sleep, okay?"

Dean pulled the covers up and rested back into the soft pillows. He sighed comfortably his eyes fluttering shut.

"Yeah Sammy...Happy Christmas, bro."

"And you too, Dean. Merry Christmas!"

wWw

"Well, who'd have thought it?"

The well dressed being looked across at his companion and reached for the champagne before him, tipping the delicate flute in salute as he smiled.

"We managed to lead them to the exact point we needed them to be!"

His companion gasped at the glibly smiling man.

"Hardly 'lead them' was it, my brother. More like kick, shove, punch them to where we wanted them. Look at him? Can you not see that he's half dead!"

The second being was clearly much less comfortable with the approach to their combined task.

"What does it matter? Half dead is still alive and they are going to hunt the demon which is what He commanded us to have them do?"

"Your indifference to them will damage them beyond redemption if you are not careful. And then where will we be?"

The first being took a sip of the dry, acidic wine, his fierce eyes holding his companion's, as he swallowed appreciatively. The gaze he received in return spoke of growing contempt.

"They have feelings, you know. They are not just pawns for us to manipulate."

Rich deep laughter filled the room and he slammed the glass down on the table, shattering its fragile beauty. His face was a mask of restrained anger.

"Yes they are!"

He snarled.

"They are there only by His Grace and they are but one of our few weapons in this unholy war. You are too much of a bleeding heart, brother. You must learn to emulate my detachment from these insignificant creatures and remember that the final outcome is the only goal in our work. Your concern for these creatures clouds your judgement and I will not become the victim of your pathetic weakness!"

The second being lowered his head unwilling to have this argument yet again and relieved that their charges had survived their ordeal.

"Alright, as you wish, brother. But we are also tasked with watching over the Winchesters and you cannot object if I do that."

"As you will, brother, as you will."

His laughter echoed coldly into the night.

The End

Please come back for the sequel which should be coming in the next few weeks and thanks again for all your encouragement. Bev and Jane x


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